There are cities that shine in the light of the summer sun and are beautiful; Milan is a winter city and in winter, covered by fog and frost, it is at its best.
It was close to Christmas the day we arrived in front of the spires, a moment of the night in which the square lies empty and the city still sleeps. We had come from a day of celebrating months of hard work and from a party that had made us both happy and tired. We were looking for a taxi but we stopped to talk in front of the entrance to the Cathedral.
Usually, two people stand facing each other to speak, but we automatically turned towards the Duomo and started talking about the city: its beauties and its dark corners, the sunset among the streets of Brera during the autumn, the Navigli canals and the reborn Darsena, memories of the city when we were young. One story led to another as we stood in front of the Cathedral for four hours, the cold rising through our feet, with hands in pockets, and still looking at the Cathedral.
We thought we must be a strange sight seen from the spires, “Who knows what these two want standing in front of the door to our house in the middle of the night” we imagined them saying. But we wanted nothing, just to keep talking and admiring that monument of perseverance, the symbol of Milan.
We chose to adopt the Carelli spire as it is the oldest and because it represents a man who loved the Veneranda Fabbrica’s project before anyone else. It seems the right way to remember a night that we loved and that we still talk of every now and then.
Veronica e Jacopo
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