there's something i love about that moment between 2 and 4 pm, away from the main streets and into the heart of roman neighbourhoods, when the remnants of the morning's market fervour get sweeped up and rinsed away, leaving behind a trail of defeated vegetables, like at the end of a party. there's something melancholic about it. the street is empty of people, and the only noise is the tragic hum of the garbage collection van.
