Its the smell of manure of the rural Veneto, the joy of putting your hands in the earth, the beast that fell into the cement ditch and cannot get out, its the kids playing in the mud under the dim rainy sky, enjoying and playing in the gritty countryside.
A quenched swamp where cement layers cover infinite mud houses of mosquito’s gangs. The cats blind each others and little men climb the slender trees to shoot the canaries. No Melodies but the aligned pouring of chemical channels feeding fat wrinkled vegetables. Kids run through the fields their steps crunching the frozen ground turned upside down.