One winter night, a traveler arrives in the temporary city. Provisional, it is doubly so: this young man comes to carry out an order, the length of his stay will be determined by his work; the city itself, which takes water from all sides, is threatened in its existence. This city on the lagoon, never named, the young man has never been there but he recognizes everything he sees, and we with him, so much is his image inscribed in the imagination. “Maybe I am afraid of losing Venice all of a sudden, if I speak of her,” worries Italo Calvino.
Too In the temporary city, third novel by Bruno Pellegrino, does he show the city and the visitor only through the liquid metaphor: January rain, sirens announcing the acqua alta, soaked sneakers, raised shops and a sumptuous dreamlike, fellinian scene, the passage of a liner under the storm, tearing like silk the edge of a quay.