It is approaching mid- day. The stream of morning commuters at the Ferrara railway station has thinned into a trickle. Each morning a huge chunk of the population of this medieval town ride in to the station and board the trains that would take them to the nearby cities like Bologna and Padova for work. Secured to the rows of semicircular iron bars, over a hundred bicycles that brought them in from the centre and periphery of the town wait, to take them back home in the evening.
Among the small groups of people idling on the steps of the railway station and waiting at the bus stop are a young man and woman- leaning casually on a lamp post and chatting. As it is always with strangers in a space, eyes meet briefly and shift again never really taking in the faces, never really seeing. Then, at one moment with no gaze upon them, the couple, in one fluid motion, breaks the chain of a brand new bicycle parked near them and ride swiftly away.