It’s nice to walk around the city on a Sunday: in the middle of the street, without fear of cars, accompanied only by the sound of our footsteps.

When the offices, shops, and bars are closed, we cross paths with the true inhabitants of the city: the old woman feeding the neighborhood cats, the homeless man sharing bread with the pigeons, the couple having coffee on the terrace of the renovated square. After last night’s party, the students and supporters of the city’s club are still sleeping.

In the morning silence, you can hear the sound of cameras coming from a passing bus. Tourists admire, surprised, the cluster of uninhabited houses that, just waking up, disheveled and unwashed, stretch in the sun.