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About Turin

So, I’m strollin’, tryna find a chick who’s, uh, *available*. How you doin’, ladies? I spot this one gal, all sass, leanin’ on a corner like she owns it. I’m thinkin’, “She’s got that *Moonrise* spunk—‘I’m not leaving without you!’” I swagger up, all Joey-style, “Hey, how you doin’?” She smirks, like, “Boy, you lost?” I’m laughin’, but inside I’m like—damn, this is wild! Did ya know, back in the day, some prostitutes used secret codes? Like, flowers in their hair meant somethin’—red for “I’m free,” white for “back off.” Crazy, right? History’s freaky like that.

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After that little fiasco, I head over to the old church, Chiesa di San Giovanni Battista. It’s stunning, man. The architecture is wild. I’m just standing there, taking it all in, when I hear this loud crash. I whip around, and some kid just knocked over a statue! I’m like, “Dude, what are you doing?” The kid’s mom is mortified. I can’t help but chuckle.

The Heirs of Kodiac