Fulvio Testi Avenue.

An art piece of an abandoned area. It’s not the architectural quality to make this giant place wonderful, but all the misteries inside. Althought it’s so big, you don’t really notice it when you pass in front of it, by the time it’s on one of the streets in Milan with more traffic. Once we got off of the car Alessandro and I still had some doubts about the state of the place, cause it’s so impenetrable that it’s not easy to make ipothesis. But with the experience in the geriatric institute we decide it’s good enough for a sight. I’ve never stopped over here before, so i’m not capable to imagine how big this place is. But lets start from the beginning.our first view is beyond a fence, that lets us see an open space for loading goods. The shutters are all rolled down and rusty, the doors are closed and the windows too, except one left open, but not enough to let someone climb it. Desolation is total: it’s a working day and i’d expect to see some movment around, or at least the doors open and noise from the inside. The traffic doesn’t let us be sure of the silent from the warehouse, but everything looks so calm, that we have few doubts. The truck shelters have been clearly attacked by bad weather, and there’s no sign to try to stop this. From this distance i can’t tell what the pillars are made of: the reddish stains make me think of metal, but i’ve seen already coating get this colour. The wooden window frames are discoloured by to much exposition to light and weather in general. Also the wall in front of us has signs of humidity from the ground and from the roof: i can clearly see the difference: the first case causes the coating to swell, with white and grey stains (from the mineral salts); the second is given by the water from the roof that goes down for gravity taken all kind of sediments with it. An electric wire decorates the façade, as if it was a garland forgotten after a party that finished a long time ago. The perpendicular façade seems in better conditions, but i’m sure it’s just an illusion, given by the discolouring of too much exposition to the sun, like a picture with too much contrast. The window frames confirm my theory. Eaves, gutter, and many kinds of electric wires  fill in a  façade otherwise too regular. The bricks seem in perfect condition: the concrete hasn’t been attacked by rain, making it swell from it’s bed, so it makes me think that this building could be recent enough. But it still could be thanks to the sun: the warmth could have dried up the humidity before it could get deep inside. The open space is quite clean: there isn’t rubbish around or abandoned objects. Dead leaves haven’t been thrown away, but they lay tidly underneath the plants, as if the wind stopped blowing over here. Some weeds found place where to grow, but not enough to make the passage difficult, or to seem a weed cemetary. The musk restes in the shade, trying to peek out towards us. This open space is not in function, this is sure enough by now, but the area is so big, it could only be this. The building on the background for example looks quite new, it shines compared to what’s in front of us. But we aren’t sure it’s part of the same area, so all we have to do is walk around it.

The contemporary art gallery in Bovisa.

Going out from the university campus i had many times the chance to admire this wall about 20 meters long, always full of pictures on it. The exhibition doesn’t last long, ‘cause the graffiti change quite frequently, giving the chance to poor students to get out of a bleak hidden car park surrounded by brilliant colours. The painted scene, or better to say “spaied” doesn’t always represent happy moments of life. This time the world described is the one of comic books. To tell the truth i don’t know if these characters actually exist or if it’s the artist fantasy that created them. If it’s the second, i really would have to congratulate with the artist, cause these characters seem to come out from an expert’s hand. What can it be the story here? The characters don’t represent the good side probably. The long yellow eyes are for sure a clear sign of the bad ones. The character in front is quite disgusting in it’s shape: it tell many things except tenderness. The mouth reminds me of an assassin shark, with very thin teeth, but very sharp. This monster is rolled up in a giant plant, too much lively to be normal and with big thornes. I don’t want to think it’s a rose, flower of love and romanticism. The character on the back reminds me of childish nightmares: the black man. The scene is not so positive after all, but the colours are so beautiful that give brightness to the street. Probably the ones who did this also go around putting tags allover, which personally i don’t approve. In the city halls they always try to find a solution to all this crap, not sure whether to consider what positive or negative. Usually this kind of graffiti are taken as positive if not done on buildings and pubblic transportation, so on this wall they are ok. This is a real artistic trend, called “aerosol art”, and it should be protected from the ones who abuse of it, smearing the city. What i think is: if you are not good at it, change hobby, and leave more space to the ones that are better. I think this time someone very good spraied.

The open air museum

Untill now i’ve been writing about buildings, abandoned areas and space in general. Who knows, maybe a bit of architectural mentality is taken over. During my wandering around i’ve seen many things worthy of attention by watchful eyes. I’m talking about all those objects along the streets, not thought as urban furniture, but that became so after being left there for a long time. I’ve been taking pictures of them from a short time, so i don’t have that many testimonies yet. How many abandoned vehicles have i encountered till now? They are probably all victims of robbery. The most fascinating car is this one, with no doubt. It’s of that kind you can drive without license: althought it’s not so powerfull, i can’t imagine how can people can be free to go around without knowing the street code. The car is small, but it still is a car. It probably was thought for the young, to try to avoid them to use motorbikes and scooters, but i always saw seniors driving it. This car in the picture is really in bad conditions, not because of time, but for criminal activities that reduce it in a slaughter. The coachwork is brand new, clean and shiny, it doesn’t have bruises, signs of rust or smog patina. No pity for the rest: the windows are completely shattered, the rubber frames taken apart, part of one of the doors it has been braken into half and thrown scornfully on the seat, in the middle of the glass fragments. Where the stereo was, there are only two electric wires, a black one and a red one. After the windows it’s for sure the true victim of the assault, althught in a car like this there probably wasn’t a flashy stereo system. The back has become a pondy puddle of rain water, which tells me that it must be here since a while, being the it hasn’t rained in the last days. The puddle welcomes a small coke can, of the ones you get in the machines. This big company knows always how to make itself pubblicity: in the good and in the evil, it’s image is always around us.

121

it probably brings bad luck to open an industry over here. Two abandoned places, one after the other. Apparently very similar: same dimension, same type of entrance, same characteristics. This one used to produce electric tools. The first part i encounter is the entrance for the vehicles. It is different from the other one, cause it has warmer colours, more welcoming. The floor is paved with two different tunes of pink tiles, and the walls are white and grey. The small roofing welcomes the sun, and instead of protecting from light it seems to make it brighter, emphasizing the heat that a winter day doesn’t have. I have some doubts if it is abandoned or not, cause it’s not so messy around. Except some weeds peecking out near the walls and manholes there’s only a bench left laying against one of the walls. It’s not where it supposed to be: it’s place should be in a warehouse, not in a passage way. Life seems to have stopped not from a long time. The only sign of abandonment is given by the dust and dirt on the windows, that haven’t been broken yet. Two holes on the walls say just that there has been a lack of maintenance. On the door of glass there are still two fliers attached with scotchtape: the dust hasn’t penetrated in the scotchtape letting the fliers fall on the incrusted floor. The stairway inside is fascinating, cause it still has an aura of authority: steps in marble and handrail in solid wood. The opacity of the windows don’t let me see clearly the state of the stairs, but it does look perfectly clean, as if the dust in air decided not to lay on such an important element of the building. One of the two fliers could be the reason nobody seemed to violate the building: “ATTENTION: ALLARM CONNECTED”. To tell the truth it is not so visible as i wrote it, it is a small piece of paper on a corner of the glass. But maybe it’s enugh to keep people away. The main entrance is blocked by light roller shutter, of the ones that let you see through. At the same high of the heading there’s a chandelier, which i personally like for its triangled shape: three bulbed shaped lamps hangs from a equilateral triangled metal structure. The windows of the main façade are in good condition. Some of the Venetian blinds are rolled down, other ones let me imagine the stillness of life inside. The building is at mercy of spiders and cockroaches, free to live in peace in a big space. One of the Venetian blinds is broken, generating a fan design, giving a bit of dynamic to the façade otherwise too regular. This part on the street is very symmetric: after the entrance for vehicles and the one for people, there’s another entrance for people and after another for vehicles. This second part is in worse conditions, it has seen darker ages. I can’t tell if it’s part of the same industry, or if it’s the proof that it’s not a good idea to open an activity over here. The main entrance probably used to be quite elegant: one side is decoarated with white and red tiles, with floreal designs and small windows with wrought iron elements with the same shape. While this side is still in good condition, the rest is falling apart with humidity signs and big holes on the ceiling. It’s a big entrance and the small chandelier seems not able to satisfy the light need. The second vehicle entrance reaveals me a detail. It’s in worse condition than the first one, and weeds are taken place in the background. The walls are ruined and dirty and on the floor there are piles of concrete and bricks. I observe one of these to verify who can have passed around here: there’s nothing else except few empty bottles of beer. So probably the last ones around were just workers. By the time my attention is on the floor i notice that the tiles aren’t of two shades of pink, but only one: the effect of two tunes is given by the different direction of the design in releaf when hit by the light.

Still nature at 123

Right next to the garage there’s an empty space protected by a fence with a sign allerting not to overpass it, otherwise we’ll be punished for the law 633 of the CP. It’s not hard to imagine what this law has to say, but searching for it on the internet i couldn’t find the precise text. At this point i’m curious. The land is nice to watch afterall, cause it’s not the usual dead weed, but bright green weeds. Althought it’s not a golf course, yhr bright colour gives a smile to this sad street. The tones are less shimmery because of what comes next: a little abandoned industry at the number 123 of the street. There are no broken windows, some are carefully closed, other ones have the shades down, other are a bit open. From far away i can’t tell for sure, but it does look closed. The air around it is still and time has stopped passing by since a while. Not enough to become old. In a cold winter day there’s no smoke coming out from the chimneys. I advance few steps to get closer to the main entrance to verify my suspects. The main building is covered with blue tiles: even more than yellow paint i hate tiled buildings. Planning choises i don’t share. Time usually takes away one tile after the other, leaving grey holes where there was a uniform design. Terrible. A clear sensation of ruin and poverty, of early aging. Not the message a florid industry would want to show. Infact it’s closed. Destiny was written. The window frames are all rusty, the glass dirty and opaque. Only one window is broken on the first floor, more for spite than to try to get in, being that there are windows more easily reachable. Infact on the ground floor there’s a window with no glass at all: scruplessly all the fragments have been taken away so it could be climbed with no risk. The gate is easy to clmb, the window is easy to reach: i don’t need anyone to tell me that there are people living inside. I’ve seen places in worse conditions used as homes by the clandestines: this is a five star hotel compared to the rest. The ones who occupied the building are quite lucky, cause the rooms are well protected from the bad weather. It might sound cynic, but between 15 places i’ve seen 10 were inhabitated: the other ones were empty because well closed or because in completely state of ruin. If i think of at least 10 people for place (which is not true, by the time i’ve read tht in the Richard Ginory area there were 150 people), there are at least 100 people with no home. Absolutely optimistic valuation. I have to admit that this is the aspect that impressed me the most. I’ve never cared so much for the situation of clandestines, but the more i go on with my research, the more i feel shocked. The entrance of the trucks is desolated, with no trash keeping company. The asphalt is cracked and near the manhole a green musk stain is trying to take over, and probably sooner or later plants will be able to grow over here. It depends from the owners, from the time they’ll pass by before they’ll give life back to an area not completely lost. The regular window holes, on a light blue background, remind me of a scene from De Chirico, probably because of the feeling of stillness and lonelyness. The silence and the broken security cameras give me the feeling that this entrance leads to the abyss. The industry used to produce “carbon paper, inks, colours and stickers”, as the tridimensional letters say on top of the main entrance. The roller shutters are down, and are also blue: i can’t say they weren’t incoherent. The writer’s tags have stopped on the street side, they haven’t entered yet. Althought it’s so easy to get inside, the exposure on the street makes it too easy to be caught.

129

when i finished what i had to do i went back, laying more attention on the side of the street where i’m walking, leaving on my left the long wake of popular buildings. There’s a treasury of abandoned areas and buildings closed from not too long. As a first thing i encounter a gate with a sign on it telling me that inside there’s supposed to be a garage. To tell the truth i don’t see anything that can remind me of constructions. If i want to associate the area with cars anyway, it looks more like an old car park. If i want to be realist it’s just an abandoned area. Very fascinating. The emptyness is total. The few things inside get lost if compared to the full sensation of breath i have. I feel as if i’m not in Milan, althought i realize, after wandering around these last months, that the city is full of abandoned areas, emptiness, covered with weeds. But, althought there are so many, they aren’t immediately perceiveble as the rest, as the streets full of traffic, the buildings, the swarm of people and trams. Althought there are so many it is hard to associate them to city ground. The area i have in front of me conquers me for the apparent order. The strange course typical of the course of streets, with tyre prints and few pieces of asphalt, seduces me. The sensation of infinity, of the street that doesn’t show where it leads, enchantes me. Far away, protected by the morning fog and the city smog which can sometimes give beautiful images, i see two figures walking one next to the other, both in red. As usual i feel an invder, althought they have less reasons than i to be over there. By the time they are still far away i stay there a bit longer, observing the relicts inside, as survivors on a battle never fought, but only imagined. The defeated, a grey economy car, deprived of the tyres and reduced to a pile of sheet metal, with no glass on the windows and various objects on it that seem to want to consume it even more a bit at the time, as many little animals insisting on a carcass abandoned to it’s own destiny... the defeated sadly represents what the area must have been in the past. The imaginary winner, another economy car, white, intact, has no signs of wounds and defeat. This is what it left of the garage. The rest is only present. Few empty bottles in the middle of dead branches and weeds, paper mingling with the dead leaves bed, a shopping carriage and pipes tidly on the side: all of this tells that nothing that could interest a common cityzen happens over here. The trees on both sides are waiting for the sun to become warmer so they can come back to life. Till then they accompany melancholy the ones searching for the end of the infinity.

Via Giambellino

I came over here, ‘cause i had to carry out an errand. After that i would have gone wandering around searching for new destinations for my explorations. In my mind the Giambellino has always been far from everything: far from the center, far from where i usually spend my time in Milan. In the past i  had more than one occasion to realize how small this city is after all. If you go through it on foot instead of using any kind of transportation, you’ll have the impression you can embrace it with one sight. It might sound contradictory, ‘cause using the bus, for example, should give the impression of shorter distances than on foot. Instead i have to thank my legs if i found out how sweet and welcoming this city is. These might be banal thoughts, but i matured them only with experience, common thoughts that are so only if verified. I got in Giambellino street with the tram, the 14 i think. The last time i passed over here i was a little girl and by car with my parents. A never ending trip it seemed. So when i first got here i was surprised to realize how close it was to everything else. From the tram i can see the Richard Ginori. It’s very close to the Canals. such two different worlds in imaginary and in physicist. The first part of the street isn’t so different from the rest of the urban landscape, which surprised me too: i’ve never thought of Giambellino as a street with trees and buildings of the beginning of the last century. The only image i had is the one given by the second part: popular homes with not one tree to give some shade. I’m afraid. Althought i realize i’m not far from familiar places i feel uneasy, little protected. The impudent way these buildings are put rhythmly along the road dishearten me. There’s no intention to make the view more lively. We outsiders aren’t ready to accept this kind of building abuse. I’ve heard many times people that live in such places try to convince that it isn’t so bad as it seems, that it is moved by small familiar rhythms. I have a hard time believing it. It’s not the humanity of the people i don’t believe, but the fact they can find welcoming this kind of scenary. For the ones coming from the country side it’s a shocking show. I get of the tram two stops before so i can absorb better my feelings. There aren’t too many people around and the cars pass by fast and i search in vain for something to warm up my heart. All i have left to do is to watch the sun, pale, but at least familiar. The lack of trees makes the light stronger, and i really have the impression that the buildings are staring at me arrogantly. What shocks me the most is the repetition of the same type, color and dimension. I have the impression i’m not moving, finding myself always in the same point. I don’t think i’ve crossed one Italian, which brought me back to my Erasmus in Greece: i used to live near a street like this one and i remember having the same feelings. I used to hug my coat tight to feel a bit more protected from all that exposure. Agorafobia. It sounds even more contradictory, by the time i live in what the milanese call the countryside. The power of the city: it gives life to strange sensations. In one of these buildings few days ago a four year old little girl burnt down the apartment where she live, by putting an inflamed peace of paper in the wardrobe. News item duty.

Piola, the renewal

Lately the subway stations are having a restyling. Getting off the train the day of my last exam, i saw this relic, unaware of accompaning the passage of thousands of students, but specially mine. For more than five years i’ve passed right next to it, peeking inside the ticket controller kiosk, always curious to see what the security cameras were showing on the screens, set on the shabby desk. The inspector of the moment didn’t really seem interested in those images, probably just too used having them in front of him. Sometimes i would see him reading the newspaper, other times i’d see him play crosswords and other more he would be there with his head laying on this cold and bleak desk, that could be anything except a good place where to have a nap. The new cubicle is much bigger and has more light: there’s also enough space for a fan. Everything is white and light grey. The old desk, abandoned in the middle of the corridor is yellowish and rusty and it seems to be at least 20 years old. Some of the drawers are open showing what as been left inside, telling stories about controllers that don’t seem too sorry to separate from a faithful compagnon, althought a bit old. The care for this furniture tells a lot of the feelings of the workers. The  ATM kiosks are not really like the desk of a secretary, which learns to feel the desk HERS, keeping it clean, tidy, or filling it with ornaments that remind her of home. The ATM kiosks don’t have anything of all of this. The controllers that stay there will probably not stay if not for few hours and will be sent somewhere else. Inside these kiosks there’s no sign of them enjoying doing this job. The boredom and the tension you breathe passing by is of people who didn’t really want to do that job. They just happened to be there, so there’s no reason to take affections in it. It also may be ‘cause they are men, who usually aren’t so sentimental. The furniture has changed, what was in it is changing too: inside the drawers i can see an old newspaper and various documents ready to be forgotten like the desk that holds them. One of the drawers is broken. Did they brake it pulling the desk out of the kiosk or the controllers had to go mad for years trying to use something that didn’t work? It’s an important aspect, cause it’s hard enough to work in a dark cold humid place with a rusty desk: if we also give them broken drawers, the discomfort becomes really intolerable, not dignified for the ones that had to bear such situations. I’d say inhuman. These thoughts calm my madness against the crazy strikes of last month. I’m here, at home, writing my thesis in peace with everything i love around me to keep me company, drinking a warm cup of tea whenever i want. Who worked for years in the kiosk of Piola didn’t have all these comforts. What they see is always the same: the usual newspaper stand, the usual bar, and the usual columns that obstruct the view of people coming and going down the stairs, without leaving any traces of their passage and without speaking with the controllers’ part of the underground landscape. But now they have a better place to work, protected by the wind of the trains passing by. It might sound banal, but the other day i could see the satisfaction on their faces observing the facinated people staring at the renewal. The old lays in a corner of the corridor, waiting to finish its destiny somewhere else. Lonely. I feel a bit fatalist, i probably give to objects too much personality. It’s hard to think that inanimated things have accompanied our days for so long without getting a bit of life, absorbing our experiences and memories. I have a hard time separating from objects, and i feel even more melancholy if the old lays alone right next to the new, admired by everybody.

The school continues

We’re back in our car, ready to reach the first redlight to go back, when suddenlty few meters ahead we realize that the building we stopped to see wasn’t the one we saw at first. It’s impossible to find another parking lot, so Alessandro stops where he’s not supposed to and sends me out to view the right building, waiting for me in the car, with the blinkers on that seem to push me away. What i see from the street is fascinating itself. It looks like a haunted house: a low grey building, with no windows at all, no glass, with a greyish covering, emphasized by the bare trees resting during the winter. If it was spring i’d probably wouldn’t have noticed it: it would have been completely hidden by the green flourishing trees (as much as they can get over here). I reach the other side of the street. On the tips of my toes i look over the nth rusty gate, but less off its hinges than the other ones i’ve seen before. I take some pictures and look around. What i see leaves a bit disappointed and charmed at the same time. Behind the wall all i see is the building i noticed from the street and a large area full of chilled weeds, traces of forgotten old asphalt and few bags of trash. I wonder way trash never misses. Farther on i see a series of small buildings that seem to be also abandoned. While i’m thinking an attendant of the cityhall distracts me from my thoughts, asking me for pure personal curiosity, what am i doing. I don’t really know why, but i find myself telling a series of half truths and following lies. I explain i study architecture (truth) and that i have to do a project on this area (lie): i don’t know why, but i didn’t feel like telling him about my thesis. It’s shocking how i’m able to say the wrong thing in the right moment. He’s an attendant of the cityhall: he goes around the city all day long working. Who else better than him should know all the forgotten areas of th city? Obviously i think of this only after. I’m just too shy and i get very anxious when somebody speaks to me when i’m not prepared. The guy smiles at me sly while he speaks to me, which makes me feel uneasy. Would have he stopped me if i were a boy? Would have he stared at me with that dreamy look in his eyes? This is probably the reason i try to cut this uncomfortable conversation. Improvising is not up to my ally. I wouldn’t have thought of nothing smart to ask if it wasn’t him to tell me that he has noticed me before peeking in the deposit area. He explains to me that the cityhall has giving them that area to keep their stuff while they work in that area. It’s been a while they are there and he had the chance to realize the dayly movements inside the abandoned area. Both the buildings are used by clandestines to live. They enter from the deposit climbing the wall, passing in front of the attendants without worrying too much of their presence. The guy doesn’t seem to feel contempt nor pity for them: he just couldn’t care less. He tells me the two buildings are part of the same area, divided only by the school, still in function. Ah, that’s right... i’ve seen it but i didn’t really care for it. He suggestes to there and ask more information. The gate is wide open: when i used to go to highschool during school time the gate would be closed. But it’s lunch time and the students are probably home already. On the right there’s a bunch of people chatting, but i prefer to step inside and alk around by myself to get an idea of this area. On the right there’s the main building, much bigger than the others. On the left there’s a series of low buildings. I’ve already seen this scene... of course! They are the same ones i’ve seen few minutes ago from the gate of the abandoned area. At this point i verify they are not abandoned, but probably are school laboratories. This reminds me of my old school: it was so ruined that from outside i would have bet it was abandoned. Our laboratories were inside old stables of the royal villa of Monza. This scenary makes me feel at home. Between one building and the other there’s a bunch of gloomy kids staring at me suspicious. To tell the truth i’m the one suspecting on what they are doing hiding behind a building with smoke coming out from behind one’s back. This makes me feel even more at home, cause in my school it was normal situation, we didn’t really have to hide that much eather. I arrive at the end of the courtyard, where there is a low wall outlining the last building, abandoned, but property of the school: i can tell because of the quantity of desks and broken cupboards left in the middle of dried leaves never collected. The building isn’t in bad conditions, it doesn’t have broken windows (the students haven’t taken revenge on it) which still present decorations on. It can’t be closed from more than two years. The low wall leads to a very big area of weeds, a land you wouldn’t expect to find in the middle of the city. Going back i find on my right the building i saw from the street: it’s separated from the school only by an orange net, of the ones used in sites. There’s no sign of no intention of restoring it. The sensation of haunted house is even stronger from here, cause i can’t see the cars, reminding me of time passing by. There are no doors and windows and i really have a hard time believing that someone can find relief over here. I take a picture for my documentary. I might come back here again one day. Now i must go, Alessandro is waiting for me curious on the other side of the street. This time i don’t feel like going back to the redlight, so i try to pass directly from here. The usual barriers are here. I have to climb. Alessandro smiles at me while i try to pass with the agility of a ninety year old. Feeling observed i have a harder time and i loose the little credibility of myself i had.

The school

From via Bezzi we decide to go towards Loreto, to go window shopping and to get closer to the university. We deserve some rest after the visit to the geriatric institute. We stay on the beltway. Why should we try to get lost when somebody planned a street that takes you exactly where you need? If i hadn’t followed this thought we wouldn’t have passed in viale Liguria for a long time probably. Right after the subway stop of Romolo, where all the students of the IULM get off, we notice a dark old building, with no windows and weeds growing on the walls. Our lunch can wait. We look for a parking lot, we go on for few hundred meters and decide we went to far, so we try to go back. This has perhaps disorientated us and we stop right in front of an old building with all the windows walled up. Is it the one we saw before? It does look different. The façade is completely closed, there is not one chink left open: the concrete on windows and doors leaves no possibility to imagine what there could be inside. It’s a massive block. Fortunately there’s always the same shattered gate: what sense does it have to wall up everything if you leave the main entrance weakly protected? The gate is partly off its hinges, very rusty, and it’s held together by the famous chain for bicycles covered with the consumed green plastic. Why are these chains always green? The sign on the gate says: “access denied to motor vehicles not authorized”. So in theory i could go in... i’m not a vehicle! But i’d have to climb up the gate, cause the space to pass through is too tight, maybe a kid would be able to pass. I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to climb a gate on a main street with my beautiful velvet coat anyway. We look at the courtyard from the gate. There are hints of people passing in it. Trash is all over. Nature is completely wild: the plants have overgrown and it seems they are dancing capturing whatever happens to find itsels between their claws. One of their victims is a excavator: if the plants had the strenght to catch such a big vehicle (probably authorized), what would it happen to my skinny body? From the split we see on our immediate right a door, part of the external wall. It’s open! There’s a sign on it which ironically says “close the door”. How is it possible that we didn’t notice an open door to get in? So we walk back few steps, we pull our heads out towards the door... and there’s nothing there! No, wait! Behind climbing plants we can see there was a door, that has been walled up like the rest. We feel a bit perplexed, cause before we noticed from outside the walled door, we saw inside the open door. We laugh about it and we go towards Piazza Belfanti, where i saw an open gate: we must find out if it’s part of the area. I take few steps inside, very timidly: it’s a kind of deposit of junk and old stuff. There’s a guy sitting on a chair staring at us. We go back out cause i verified that the two areas are not the same one: there’s a high wall between them. Going back to the car we pass near the gate again and Alessandro invites me to check out the symbol on it: it looks like the symbol of peace with a S on it. It could be the symbol of the industry that made the gate, but it’s too big, so probably it represents what there was here before.

The truth

The dark room, with no door, in which i entered is very small, not bigger than 5 square meters, and it leads to another room even darker and misterious. I can’t see absolutely nothing. The only light comes from the underpass, dark itself. The only way i have to find out what in here is to take pictures using the flash. The scene i’m into reminds me of a horror movie or of one of my nightmears. First nothing, then only glimpses of disturbing images. It must be an old bathroom, cause there are four sinks, one worse than the others. It’s incredible my surprise of catching these images, where i had no idea of where i were. It’s like i didn’t even get into the place, but as if i saw a movie of it. An old radiator, dirty and encrusted with paint, broken wooden boards, a bottle of beer leaning on one of the sinks in a too diligent way, out of tune with all that mess, a sink that hasn’t been used in years and a pink soap on it, right where it’s supposed to be, as if somebody stopped using this bathroom from one day to the other, with no apparently good reason. Contrasting with the care od the bottle and the soap, an opaque window is leaning against the sink, with wrought iron decorations and a big hole in the middle, as if someone threw  something against it with violence. One of our doubts gets stronger: what if it is a mental hospital? This may be the reason there is no sign on the gate and no patients walking around. On the right side of the room there are two more sinks: a small one e a long one, like the ones we have in schools. The triple sink is disgusting: is full of dirty pondy rusty water... is it obstructed or someone years ago forgot to take the plug out? Spiderwebs decorate the wall and the pipes. A mirror is still in its place intact. On the small sink somebody negligently left a jar of yogurt. It looks full, which disgustes me with no end, but after all this time there should be much more than just mould. At least i have the feeling that there are no mice to eat the yogurt. I go back to the normal time passing by: i go out. The air i breath under the pass reminds me who i am, where i am and where i’m going. It takes few seconds to get back to reality: coming out from a dark room leaves a soporific sense. Once i feel better we go towards the other corridor exactly in front of the dark room. From the underpass the view is wonderful. It’s not really abandoned, but for sure is a way used by very few people: i’m sure doctors and patients don’t use this passage. Soft withered lights accompany the way through walls of bricks, reminding me of prisons and castles. We don’t hear nor see anybody in front of us, so we go on with no fear. Alessandro is now convinced too that it was worth to visit this place. On the left a dirty old light comes from forgotten windows every now and then. Here and there we meat strange recesses, which make our walking more interesting, cause every time we think there is something behind. After about 20 meters the corridor turns 90° right, becoming much larger and changing the scenary: now it really looks like we are in an antique cellar with arched ceiling. After few steps the path takes new directions, leading to new visions. The apparentlly desolated scene leaves space to a more dynamic view: there are clear hints of work in progress for restoration. Perhaps we are underneath the buildings we saw from outside that are being restored. All we could hear before were our steps, now we can hear people working, the concrete being mixed and steel beams being moved. Feeling satisfied we turn back, and at about ten meters from the entrance, on the right i notice a black pipe, with the isolating scum all around it, telling us goodbye. The coloring of the wall here is quite unusual: at a certain point the grey of the concrete leaves space to a strange reddish pink. My fierce thoughts as usual make me think to faded blood, but i’m sure i’m wrong. We leave behind macabre feelings and we go back to reality: we must find out what this place is, finally. We go back up the way we came from, but this time once outside we turn left. There’s movement around, it’s lunch time and cars are coming and going and people are walking towards the main gate. Protected by a barrier which goes up only if you have a password. We stay inside the area and go on. Behind the yelloish building there is anotherone, much bigger and dark. To reach the entrance there’s a small uphill like the ones you usually find in the emergency of the hospitals. Here we have one confirmation: there’s an old man getting inside a car, and others standing in front of the entrance. I look at the building and it looks like it’s divided in small appartments. Is it a resting home? We go back to the main gate, ready to go away, not before asking some information. We realize that there’s no way out is somebody doesn’t open the barrier for us. We go behind a car and follow it out. I’m almost asking information, when i look at the top of the dark building and there i see it, a great big sign on the roof: “Rehabilitative Geriatric Institute”. This happens when you walk staring at the ground. You find yourself visiting places you didn’t really care to see. A question comes to my mind: are there so many people that can fly in Milan? If i hadn’t raised my head to the sky, i would have never seen that sign.

The unknown almost revealed

We pass the buildings that are being restored and we cross very few people walking alone. Alessandro looks at me and askes me why don’t i stop somebody to find out where we are. I’m shy. This is the main reason. If I also want to put a bit of patos to all, I prefer to find out trhough hints. We reach an underpass inside the area, undoubtely not abandoned. We meet an attendant transporting trash on a long thing that looks like a little train. He looks at us a bit annoyed and suspicious, with a brush of contempt at the same time. Or at least this is the feeling of who feels guilty of being where she’s not supoosed to be. To tell the truth i have the right to know what happens in my city, but sometimes it wouldn’t be bad to ask permission. But here it seems like nobody really cares of us. You ignore me? So then i’ll do whatever i feel like. In the lowest part of the underpass there’s a treasure: perpendicular two long dark corridors begin, lighted up only by lamps worn out by time and dust. A guy walks back and forth nervously, talking on his mobile phone, preventing me from going inside the corridors: i don’t want uncomfortable witnesses. Awaiting for him to get calmer and to go away, we go on, going back up the other way. First hint. We meet a guy all dressed in white like a nurse. It’s not really the uniform that tells who he is, but the terrible clogs he wears. Horrible, but they must be very comfortable if all the nurses of the world wear them. This part of the area must be recent, the buildings have wide windows and a disgusting yellowish covering... but there must be a good reason here too, being that the 40% of the buildings have this colour. We see in the meantime other nurses pass by. We start to think we are not in Farmitalia, but in a hospital. But is it possible there wasn’t a sign on the gate? Do they want to scare to death people so they have somebody to cure? Probably the other hospitals of the city do too much competition. Actually the Niguarda hospital is much bigger and it was designed by an important architect of Milan, nothing to do with this hole... but it’s not my intention to create tensions. Every place has its own dignity and we have to respect it. There’s a little gate back here that leads to a carpark confining with residential buildings. The first impression is that this little gate leads to the residential buildings. It’s strange enough that these are so close, i usually see hospitals far from residential buildings, usually they are surrounded by parks or large streets. On the gate there is a flyer and it says something about timings for patients and relatives. The heading says: “milanese institutes Martinit and Stelline and Pio Trivulzio hotel”. This doesn’t say anything to me, i’ve never heard of these places and it doesn’t talk about hospitals. I’ll have to keep for myself my doubts. We look towards the underpass, to see if we are free to move: the neurotic has gone away. We go down. I smell something i haven’t noticed before: food: far away i hear women sing and noise of dishes. It all comes out from two opaque windows that show only the neon lights. There are down here the two corridors i’ve talked about before and a very dark room. I err again of inexperience... i haven’t brought the flash light: i give my self an F as preparation for exploration. We enter the first corridor, the shortest one ant the one with more light. There are rusty three elevators, they look broken, but perhaps i’m wrong. The three same doors seem to want to ask me a riddle: “which one of us would you take for a ride in the underworld?” very hard question, i don’t know which one is worse. Exactly in front of the elevators there is an open door... here’s the answer: i forget about the evil elevators and choose the fastest and easiest way: the one i can see where it leads. The door brings me to a staircase, with wrought iron railing, of the type that create a nice prospectic view that has to be taken a picture of. I really would go up the stairs, if only there wasn’t that dark corridor and the room full of secrets waiting for me. The misterious room is my next destination, it’s right next to this corridor. There is a low wall, about 20 cm, to obstruct the way through the passage with no door. I don’t have my flshlight, but i do wear high boots. What i can see from outside its kind of disgusting: cardboard, boxes of medicines, orange peels, empty sigarette boxes (or at least i suppose, i’m not going to verify), detergent bottles... i have the jitters, but fortunatly i’m not fussy, so i go inside.