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Then there’s the vibe, man. She’s smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a wall—like a vampire waitin’ for prey. Straight outta that movie, “I must be gone,” I mutter, half-jokin’. She didn’t get it—too young, prob’ly. Made me happy, tho—felt clever as hell. But the stench? Goddamn, that alley—rotten trash and broken dreams. Nearly puked, ruined the mood. Why’s it always gotta be so nasty? Angry rant in my head: *Clean your damn spot, lady!*

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So, I’m rollin’ down Via Roma, right? The sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m like, “Today’s gonna be a breeze.” But then, BAM! I see this dude sprinting down the street. Like, full-on Usain Bolt mode. I’m thinkin’, “What’s he running from?” Turns out, he’s just late for his bus. Classic Segrate, man. Everyone’s always in a rush.

Factory reflections: art, design and architecture in the factory