Meeting Benches World art in all forms
DESOLATION – E. Pound: I’ve walked these streets. I believed that they were alive. SPELL – S. Spender: Dreaming of the city, where the clouds will tilt their thick neck, white as a swan. EVENING – FT Marinetti: The City, despising the night terror, which went up by far the onslaught of lights, aderse suddenly, with a glowing hand, the beam sound of its bells, up, up into the sky. And the towers, brandished like black spears, tired and wounded flesh august evening.
ROADS – JL Borges: Including, which is a candlestick every house where burn with flame solitary lives, and that our every hurried step treads on the Golgotha of others. SUBURBS – U. Saba: The carousel is playing, the misery of the last things to goods that seem to waste, the facades of the houses invaded by leprosy, who yesterday was color, and rejoiced in the distant view. CITIZENS – W. Blake: People of the city, from stomping, neck laces prisoner of iron. MAGNETS – VJ Bryusov: Steel block, brick and glass, surrounded by networks of wire, you are a tireless magician, a magnet that does not fade. DUPLICITY – Walter Benjamin: The maze of houses of the city looks like, in the light of day, to consciousness. But at night, in the dark masses of houses, their darkness more compact stands and afraid. LIMINALITY – C. Levi: The sky above ends a few meters between smoke yellow wires, sooty oil wheel. All around there is a supposed world roaring and screaming, inextricable, and yet there may be cricket, eaten apple, the child and the eye of the goat still. 
STEPS – C. Baudelaire: The shape of a city, changes faster than the human heart. MINES – C. Dickens: Was a town of red brick, or of brick that would have been red if the smoke and ashes had allowed it. But as it was, was a town of unnatural red and black like the painted face of a savage. The jail might have been the hospital, the hospital could have been the jail, the town hall could be each of the two or both. CENTRALIZATION – Frank Lloyd Wright: The happiness of the city completely urbanized, nell’ammucchiarsi is in great confusion – lured by the hypnotic heat, by the push of the crowd and after its passage; the screeching and the noise makes your head spin, fills the ears – as the song of birds, the rustle of the wind in the trees, the voices of the animals, or as a time filled her heart the voices and songs of his loved ones. CONDITIONS – G. Gelati: City weird, where you find yourself. Vision of men locked in the house, in front of a TV, why not bear to look at him, other men. DESERTS – D. Buzzati: Wonderful is the power of the deserts of the East, but even more powerful is the desert of the city, made up of multitudes of noises, wheels, asphalt, electric lights, and clocks, ranging all together, all saying the same moment, the same sentence. SOLITUDES – M. Rukeyser: I found myself in a crowded street fervent life, and nobody said a word, and the morning was shining. All quiet on their way. Take a hand. Tell me.
