Genoa does not exist. It does not exist in the eyes of those who walk its streets, because it is not a city, but a changeable entity. Try getting lost in some Genoese street. You will not succeed. Because Genoa is so many overlapping feelings, because focaccia and cappuccino is just one way that we, the Genoese, simplify a concept that is anything but simple. Because telling you that sunset in Boccadasse or Spianata Castelletto is unique, is not enough. We describe it to you so that you may say “I’ve been!”. But that’s not the case. Genoa is a life so different and so complex. With stories that end up pure legend, with entire streets that ooze glorious but forgotten stories. But only those who can roam silently around Piazza Sarzano and its meanders, on windy November days with the sky looking like glass, will know the Atlantic. And those who can descend the steps of Marassi, without looking for beauty, will be moved. From the station of Nervi to the first opening of the walk, don’t ask yourselves if it’s worth taking a picture. Ask yourselves instead where it is you’ve been before, in your heart, many years ago, when you fell in love that summer’s day. Ask yourselves in silence, maybe listening to distant music, because the answer is within you. Genoa does not exist, because it is not a city. You do not celebrate wonders here, you just are. Lose yourselves.”
Genoa
