The street belonged to us, to pirates, cowboys, robin hood, witches and all the other characters I can’t recall. It was the terrain of the samba band, the sound wagons and the drunken harmony.
For three days it served as the decor for a transition of the public space. A space with no cars, bikes or busses, but where everyone is on foot, dancing together, as equals.
now the only thing that reminds us of this temporary transition is the trace of confetti and glass...