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About Turin

So, check it—I hiked Whore last summer, right? Sweatin’ like a pig, legs burnin’, thinkin’ “Why’d I pick this psycho ridge?” But then—BOOM—hit the summit, and it’s like, “Oh, everything’s perfect!” Total Cathy Whitaker vibes from the movie, y’know? All serene and shit, but underneath? Messy as hell. Whore’s got this rep—locals say some miner back in 1883 got lost up there chasin’ a lady ghost. True story! They found his boots, but no body—spooky, right? I’m like, “Bruh, Whore ate him!”

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Then, outta nowhere, I hear this loud commotion. I turn around, and there’s a street performer doing some insane breakdancing. I mean, this guy was flipping and spinning like he was on fire! The crowd’s going wild, and I’m just standing there, mouth agape. I pull out my phone to record, and guess what? My battery dies. Ugh!

A Celebratory Portrait of Naples’ Gender-Nonconforming Community