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Taking a different walk through Pescara

I decide to go for a walk at the seafront. To get there, I have to cross the city. It seems as if the urban fabric would be an impenetrable forest, in which one can move only with difficulty. As I arrive at the river, one of the city’s greatest paradoxes unfolds: The long river is entirely surrounded by cars, both in transit and at standstill. In fact, it’s a huge parking lot. The arrogance of how these spaces approach nature is frightening. There are no filters.


I feel like I’ve detached myself from the city.

Out of curiosity, I enter a parking lot located under one of the large fast-flowing arteries that forcefully enter the city. The air seems to be absent; an acrid smell fills the space. Cars of all kinds dart over my head. I touch a large pillar and it seems that it, too, is sweating. I feel like I’m locked up in a kind of bunker. Shouldn’t I be at the river bank? Finally, I arrive at the entrance of the bridge above the sea – one of the longest pedestrian bridges in Europe.


It looks like a different city. The air is fresh and I can smell its saltiness. In the distance, I hear the voices of children playing on the beach. I feel like I’ve detached myself from the city. Here, I finally have a point of reference. I see people walking, running, talking and looking out. The view is stunning: on one side, the city with the Apennine Mountains in its back, on the other, the Adriatic sea. Time seems to have stopped, everything is calm and I feel in harmony with the city.