Andrea Calestani Photographer

“el Navili”

[…] Patiently I waited for her, followed her, observed her: her people. The one that passes by there every day. Hasty. It enters, it exits, it climbs over it. I don’t know if he observes it, it’s obvious that “he” is there. Like disturbed ants around the anthill: up and down the stairs of the bridges, perhaps to “padlock” some disordered love on the balustrade of the “Merini”. In the comings and goings, I overheard the shouting on the banks, barely perceptible to break the iconic silence of the photograph. Or the other people, alien. Stunning. Vocalant. Tumultuous waves of bodies that invade banks and boats. They crowd, they elbow, they assault that coveted pulpit just above the water. LDressed up lay priestesses, dedicated to regenerating pagan rites in an “uninterrupted fashion week” for changing nightlife.

Moreover, careless, out of venial presumption “he” knows: they pass, they will pass. He always stays where he is, in semblance of immobility. So much for centuries he was the one to look after, with difficulty, every trade and need for expansion of the future metropolis.

When I put my eye back on the camera screen to go a little further, I met his lines. The clarity of those geometric signs, essential to infinity. The Naviglio, I must admit, had a diligent and scrupulous surveyor, who was busy crossing rulers, set squares, protractors on the maps, without leaving any curb on its banks to chance.

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