Milan is a strange city. It’s not like Rome, where beauty is blatant and majestic.
Milan is more discreet, its beauties are hidden and only locals and curious people living there for a long time are aware of them.
Sometimes it feels like falling down the rabbit hole. What I mean is that you wouldn’t expect to find conceptual art, Dan Flavin to be precise, in a quiet suburbia at the end of the green line, Abbiategrasso (which in an English translation sounds like “Be fat”).
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