Suburb desolation. Going around the roads from sunset to night to witness the desolation in an abandoned Roman periphery. There is rush, wandering souls in a place that perhaps does not belong to us. One bus passes, then another, taking us home or to an evening in the company... or to ourselves. Souls that cross each other, intertwine, in a full but empty space, full of nothing. Lights turned on, psychedelic, strong, almost blinding. Silence. Everything is noise, everything is silence, everything is nothing. The suburb desolation, of numbed minds.