The roads are either too wide or too narrow, the city is a bit big and a bit small. Food is free for some and prohibitive for others. Every now and again, between an ice cream and a kiss, there’s a siren to be heard. Not too quiet to be ignored, and not too loud to annoy us. We walk, up and down, left and right, north and south. We stop and there’s something new, or something incredibly old. We find simplistic things in a unique way, and then we see how complicated and bureaucratic some basic rituals can be. Everybody is a thief in this city of saints. Everyone smiles, everybody is happy. Everybody lies and everybody loves, amid the unstoppable sirens and the seldom quiescence. Everybody bikes on the wide roads whilst the cars pervade the alleys with ease. Lots and lots of people, all around us, except when you hold my hand. Or when we kiss, between a siren and an ice cream.