“He turns right, and then left. Via Montenapoleone. Via Sant’Andrea. Via della Spiga. Finally Via del Senato. The beauty of a thousand windows blind him.”
The air is filled with artemisia, tonka beans, oud, patchouly. His dreams, up in the air. “To become human is an art!” he says to himself. And Milan, pleased with its creation, embraces him in Piazza Duomo, his other half.