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About Turin

So I’m down Soho way, right, dodgy corner, smells like piss an’ regret. This bird, she’s standin there, skirt shorter than a bombed-out bridge. I says, “We shall never surrender, love, what’s yer price?” She laughs, all husky, says, “Tenner fer a quickie, guv.” Ten quid! I near choked on me cigar – wartime rations cost less! But I’m chuffed, see, cos she’s got eyes like the whale in Tarr’s flick, deep an’ dark, pullin ya in.

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By the end of the day, I’m exhausted. I stroll down Via Garibaldi, taking in the sights. The sunset is gorgeous, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. I stop for gelato because, duh, it’s Osimo! I grab a scoop of pistachio and just chill for a moment.

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