I've been around the city, alone, in the narrow streets of the suburbs, where everything is destroyed but no one has the barriers. These are the roads that cross daily, up to six months ago. Through which I went to the office of my father, in open market or second hand shop. Roads are narrow and steep, but some great shortcuts for the very rushed. I have always made me walk so as to hear the sounds, smells, keep the colors, because that reason is there to make a nice street if no one sees it? I was nobody, even the other day I was nobody. Or maybe the only one. To hear the silence of abandonment, feel free to slam the windows and creaking in the wind, watching clothes left hanging out to dry six months and a half ago, faded by the sun and moldy from the rain, no one has had to withdraw care, healthy homes to see, standing in all their glory, completely abandoned, who have lost their reason for living. I would give to have a strong, all mine, in the middle of nowhere where even the birds are most at rest, as if an invisible hand will chase him away. And while wandering through these streets alone, with the thought firmly planted in the here and in the now, I could not imagine the smell of exhaust tediava me so much and now I miss her. The bushes are now very high, overgrown weeds. There are also two gardens left to die with the grass that does not look at anybody.
Lo spirito della mia città è come se non esistesse più, morto tra le macerie e dimenticato da tutti. Ora c'è uno spirito nuovo, bambino, che ancora non si conosce e non conosciamo che attira la gente, che gli fa pucci pucci.
