Striscia

The voice walks through the narrow alleys of Milan, as if reciting excerpts from an old entertainment show while simultaneously trying to be serious. The result is a comical, slightly broken ballad about time and the desire to be noticed. Television references, train station scenes, and the masquerade costume give the impression that it's all a concert of small defeats, presented with a wide, almost farcical smile. The awkward combination of self-deprecation and bold bravado transforms the lines into a diary entry, where each verse is a wry chuckle at one's own fatigue and clash with fashion, youth, and habits. The funny and pathetic details – the attempt to buy attention for 200 euros, the reflections on age and being out of step with trends – sound like a warm, slightly sarcastic confession from the street, which long ago stopped believing in happy endings but still continues to pretend.