The city swirls in the whirlpool of the shiny silver rims of the Mustang, the lampshades of its streets, the trees, the pharmacies, the signs of s*x shops and banks, the beauty salons, chocolateries and teahouses, the citrus fruit booths covered in posters, the real estate agencies, the windows of bookstores and pizzerias, the delight in the gaze of bald cream-colored mannequins looking at the street out of shoe stores and fashion boutiques; a cat perched on the brims of garbage cans with broken lids, a woman with a pom-pom hat, a yellow box pressed under her arm, people who are walking, every now and again casting their glance at the flowerpots on the balustrades of gondola-shaped balconies of buildings, the green stems hanging from the edges of the flowerpots are happy in their drooping
