Beneath the surface that the City presents to us, banal, serious and unimaginative, lives another, more ribald and jaunty city that occasionally sends out some smoke signals: perhaps the irony of some fortuitous juxtaposition, or some absurdity that pervades, like a barely perceived perfume, the things and people that inhabit it.
Every thing, every street corner, every passer-by can be from time to time the unwitting bearer of these almost imperceptible signals, in this case I wanted to point the corner of my eye at the road signs which, by their position, contrast with what is around, or more or less mischievous juxtapositions, are often an excellent vehicle for expressing a certain moody incongruity.
And there is no need to take too much trouble to look for it: road signs, directional arrows, prohibitions, with their peremptory and imperative language, and for that very reason liable to be ambiguously turned into its opposite, are everywhere.
The images that make up this series, as often happens to me, were all found within walking distance of my home.
