In summer, I returned to Milan to revisit Gallaratese—one of my favourite buildings in the city. Built to address the post-war housing shortage and burgeoning labour influx, Milan developed satellite towns and large housing projects around its periphery. A decade on, Gallaratese emerged as a priority, and architect Carlo Aymonino, seasoned in housing design, was commissioned to lead it. Soon after, he invited Aldo Rossi to co-design.

Inspired by Le Corbusier’s "Unité d’Habitation", Aymonino and Rossi focused not only on architecture but on its urban context, weaving skybridges, open entrances, and shared spaces to integrate Gallaratese with the city. A utopian vision, the community boasted shops, a library, art galleries, and an open-air theatre, all crafted to foster interaction and a strong communal identity.

Yet, the 1960s economic boom widened social divides, and Gallaratese’s public spaces became havens for the homeless, drawing security issues and driving tenants away. Today, it’s an enclave for the aesthetically-minded middle class, fenced off with only one entry. Its idealistic design—its theatres, plazas, and empty commercial spaces—now stands in ironic isolation.

Returning eight years later, I wandered the peeling walls, green still thriving, yet met no one. One wonders what lives unfold behind those silent doors.