Milan will never be Rome, the city where I was born. Here there are no scooters that relentlessly run on the Pontina street and in half an hour take you to the sea side. The beauty of Milan is of a different kind. Inextricably linked to the present, to the people who live here, to a very normal and surprising industriousness.

Milan with its skyscrapers thinks vertically, challenges the sky but is nevertheless capable of surprising with the vertigo of certain unexpected cloisters.

Because, and this is the great paradox, the city of business and marketing is actually very good at hiding its beauty. I suddenly found it in many places and I live it every day in my office.

The Triennale, designed by Muzio almost ninety years ago, is a magnificent place, a bridge that starts from Parco Sempione towards the rest of the city and then off into the world.

The most experimental, open and informal of the institutions, profoundly Milanese in this sense.

I love walking to work. I take different routes between the outward and return journeys, following the inclination of the sun.

At about 8.30 a.m. I leave the house, in via Fauchè, the site of one of the historic Milanese markets and stop for a coffee in the small pastry shop in via Castelvetro.

I walk on the west side of Corso Sempione passing under Casa Rustici di Lingeri and Terragni and arrive at the Triennale walking through Parco Sempione, with an inevitable stop under the Torre Branca.

On the way back, I walk on the other sidewalk, passing under the Rai studios of Giò Ponti and Nino Bertolaia and immediately after under Palazzo INA di Bottoni.

Before returning home, I often stop by "Faccio cose vedo gente", a small winery run by young and nice guys, who perfectly embody the soul of a Milan that I like.