It's the way children sing when they're sad. They sing carefully, as if it were an assignment, a mantra that if you repeat and repeat and repeat it, perfectly and clearly, all the bad and ugly thoughts will go away. The building is orange. It's the kind of building found on the edge of every Italian town. Lampposts are positioned symmetrically around the yard and there is a big one in the center with three heads.
Control panels open the gates at each end of the yard by the street, and their lights flash red.
Yes, it's the kind of apartment block found on the edge of every town, exactly the same, except that in front of this one, the countryside continues right up to the foot of the building. It was constructed right on the edge of town, facing the fields. At night, when the lights are on, it's a strange sight. A throbbing box, alive and full of people, in the darkness of the plain. The little girl sings and keeps her eyes fixed on the far end of the field, the horizon, her gaze skirting the top of the corn, which is taller than she is.