Milan is paradoxical.
So gritty, so filled with Chinese and Indian places offering you pizza and aperitivo. Deserted metro. Man trying to sell me a children's book, clinging to my arm. At lunch one day a colleague explained that now Milan is the only Italian city with jobs. There used to be Torino, but now...
The weather was dark and rainy. Until one vibrant day, the kind of day you decide to change your life. With all the others at the Duomo, I was looking for the best way to spend the luminous evening, one of the last days of summer. These years are a kind of open sea, far enough from either shore. In some moments, there is real pleasure, the gift of experience.
The impressions were like a deck of cards being turned over slowly. A woman in a long burnt orange dress walking past La Scala. My fellow diner at Trussardi, the one from Nigeria. An icy cocktail laced with ginger. Pigeons and ice cream and almost everything still closed. Beautiful language, almost understandable.
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