Via Morimondo. At the canals.

When i arrive in the street i find the usual wall that doesn’t let intend much, but there’s a small building peeking that leaves no doubt: there’s an abandoned industry over here. I search for the file in my brain to tell me what could it be, but only much more prepared minds will suggest me later that it could be the Richard Ginori factory (am i spelling it right? I have no idea). The wall is coverd with “no entry, private property” signs: weird, i’ve always thought that a wall would be good enough to indicate the border between pubblic and private. As if a little red circle is enough to prevent people from entering! Usually who climbs over a wall is aware of violating a property. The street is kind of isolated, there are only few factories hidden well behind high walls and windows. What hits me first is the lack of real graffiti: beside few scribbles, it seems there hasn’t been the intention to give some colour to such a grey area. Indeed they would have available a wall at least 200 meters long, in a very isolated street in the evening. In any case i don’t think the workers would care so much about a bunch of kids painting on walls (althought it’s against the law). I don’t suggest to try to get inside the abandoned factory from here: the barbed wire seems a bit more serious than the one in Bovisa. There are 4 rows instead of two and much closer to eachother. What really fascinates me is the contrast between the small abandoned brick building (just like the old factories: i don’t know way, but i find myself projected in a smockie industrial revolution London), broken windows, absolutely lonely, and the very recent glass and concrete mini skyscrapers on the background, comunicating a flourishing activity, and no gloomy thoughts. So it’s up to me to imagine their future, when they’ll become useless, when the companies inside will go bankrupt, or the’ll grow bigger and need more appropriate spaces to declare their empire. How many windows to break! It takes the breath away! We could happen to see raining small pieces of blueish crystals in Milan in a few years. They aren’t such terrible buildings, but i don’t think they can be considered so good to become symbol of the city, and so worthy to be preserved along the centuries. It’s hard to think that a glass and concrete building is thought with everlasting intents anyway. The important thing is to show now, who will come after will think of the furute. Other part which draws my attention is the corner of the abandoned building peeking out on the street interrupting the monotonous sight of the wall. If i’d walk along the street i’d have nothing better to do than count the bubblegums squashed on the sidewalk, observe dried leaves without knowing where they come from, curse Milan’s cityhall because the asphalt is terrible, and try to dribble the animal’s poops left there by undisciplinated owners. But i’d unexpectedly wake up from my thoughts, without understanding at the moment why. I’d start to fly towards more deep thoughts, instead of continuing cursing against worthless. And i’d just have to thank that small brick corner sticking out from the wall, that dissuaded me from the loop of thoughts i’d fallen into.