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.