There is a place in the city where I was born that has been converted into a concert venue. At night it is filled with moving bodies and lights; during the day it is surrounded by silence and by former industrial sites.

I pass through it often. I stop for a while, then I leave. But I’m not the only one.

There are young people who arrive: they sit, lie down, lean against the structures. Some stay briefly, others remain longer.

I grew up in a city where the industrial landscape never fully disappeared, continuing to shape a constant drive to act, even after the factories closed. This place still carries those traces. When the lights are off, however, the arena becomes something else: an urban void where provisional forms of existence can take shape.

The project moves within this contradiction between emptiness and presence. It observes the place at the moment it stops functioning, focusing on what emerges in this suspension. It is a temporary truce. Here, for a moment, nothing is required.

The Carroponte in Sesto San Giovanni—a city once known as the “Little Manchester of Italy”—is a former structure of the Falck steelworks, converted in 2008 into an open-air concert arena. I returned to this place over a period of two years.