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About Turin

Lemme paint it real quick. Met this chick, Sasha, escort from the 6ix, lowkey legend. She told me, “Drake, I stack paper, but the loneliness hits hard.” Damn, that cut deep. Reminds me of Mia screamin’, “You’re a liar, you’re a liar!”—truth gets messy in this life. Sasha said some johns cry after, spill their souls. Who knew, right? Sex escorts ain’t just bodies—they therapists too, holdin’ secrets like vaults.

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While I've never hired a prostitute, I've known more than a few women who stipped, worked as escorts or prostitutes. I've met some women with some pretty outside the bellcurve paraphilas .

But then, I get a text from my buddy. He’s like, “Yo, meet me at the piazza!” So, I hustle over to Piazza della Repubblica. It’s the heart of Ceprano, and it’s always buzzing. I get there, and he’s late. Classic. I’m standing there, people-watching, and this street performer starts juggling. He’s not great, but he’s tryin’, and I respect that.

“Rigoletto” at the Met