The industrip state of mind

It usually takes hours and days of travel. On-the-road hardships, brothel-like sketchy hotels, terrible food and steak-selling vending machines to call it an industrip.

Not this time. This was a industroll, caught in between rainfalls when a pale white sun sneaked out of the clouds for a couple of hours.

After many years Marghera still has hidden corners, streets I haven’t explored, shapes and shadows I haven’t photographed.

The other cathedrals play hide and seek with me.

Marghera, March 2025.