G&V

The night in Catania smells of gasoline and sweat, as if the city itself had just stepped out of a boxing ring. The white walls are shining, but not from cleanliness; it's because someone repainted them for a new life. Here, business mixes with dreams, and fitness girls and fake sheikhs drink from the same glasses. The music is booming, but there's more survival than fun in it, as if every line could become either a contract or a sentence. And yet there's a strange nobility in that noise. Those who grew up among dust and heat know how to make a celebration even out of a breath. Family, honour, speed are the currencies that will never devalue. While the engine roars and smoke billows over the rooftops, someone believes again that gold can be born from grey.