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About Turin

Oi, mateys, gather ‘round, ye scurvy dogs! I be Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy? Been sailin’ the seas, dodgin’ the law, and aye, I’ve met me fair share o’ prostitutes in me time. Now, don’t ye go judgin’ too quick—there’s more to ‘em than meets the eye, arr! Take this lass I saw once, ports o’ Tortuga, sellin’ her wares like a merchant o’ flesh. Bold as brass, she was, struttin’ like she owned the bloody docks. Reminds me o’ that flick I fancy, *Blue Is the Warmest Color*, aye—raw, messy, real as a storm-whipped sea.

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So, I roll into Lana, right? First thing I notice is the streets. They’re all cobblestone and twisty, like a snake that’s had too much espresso. I’m walkin’ down Via Roma, and it’s packed. Like, where did all these people come from? I swear, I thought I was in a human sardine can.

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