Letter from a bridge
What if all this brightness and light-heartedness were not to last forever?
Beyond beauty and music. Impressions of Milan in early autumn: a ship in celebration that fails to see the iceberg ahead of its bow
Photo: ANSA
It is still warm this evening, but a gentle breeze in the air feels almost cold. On the roof of a building in the Cordusio district, there is a new venue, as they say. The two of us are certainly not the socialite type, but it’s a dear friend’s birthday. We emerge from a mirrored lift onto the top floor. The illuminated spires of the Duomo, directly ahead, are dazzling. So beautiful they leave you speechless. Waiters flitting about, spritzes, Campari, mojitos. Old friends reuniting.
The author, describing herself as somewhat of a loner, withdraws with a drink. Gradually, however, her husband’s friends from earlier years begin to gather around him. The evening remains peaceful. Yet an underlying unease persists.
Is it perhaps that gust of cold air amidst the recent heat, a taste of late summer? Or Milan, down below, lit up as if in broad daylight, a magnet for tourists? (You are unrecognisable: those façades used to be dark with smog, Piazza Duomo was teeming with blue-overalled workers and ’68 activists with raised fists, and the acrid smell of smoke bombs hung heavy in the air. Yet what a serious city you were, combative, alive: the courtyards still full of children).
Or perhaps it is this smug opulence that weighs on my mind – given what I read online every morning. With houses in Kyiv ablaze at night, and reduced to ashes by morning. With the prospects, should Russia win: the Ukrainian army, the most powerful and advanced in Europe, in the hands of the Kremlin.
However, among those sipping aperitifs or taking selfies with the Duomo in the background, such doubts do not appear to have registered.
I have now realised what it is. It is a matter of geometry: this terrace is long and narrow. It resembles a bridge. The bridge of a luxury cruise ship.
The music plays softly and elegantly; the guests raise their glasses; Milan, aglow with shop windows, seems happy below.
And yet I feel as though I am standing right on the deck of a ship in high spirits, blind to the iceberg just beyond the bow.
Shall we proceed? I inquire. The event is well attended, and the venue is impressive. However, I enter the mirrored lift a little too quickly. The expression on my face is unmistakable. A lingering sense of unease suggests that this period of light-hearted celebration may not endure.