Contrast this with Italo Calvino's image of an industrial city of nothern Italy in the 1960s:
Born and raised in the city, ... [Michelino] had never seen a forest, not even at a distance. ... [Michelino and his brother] walked around the city, illuminated by street lamps, and they saw only houses: not a sign of a forest. ... And so they reached the area where the houses of the city ended and the street turned into a highway.
At the sides of the highway, the children saw the forest: a thick growth of strange trees blocked the view of the plain. Their trunks were very very slender, erect or slanting; and their crowns were flat and outspread, revealing the strangest shapes and the strangest colors when a passing car illuminated them with its headlights. Boughs in the form of a toothpaste tube, a face, cheese, hand, razor, bottle, cow, tire, all dotted with a foliage of letters of the alphabet.
"Hurrah!" Michelino said. "This is the forest!"
...
That evening there was a report that on the superhighway a bunch of kids was knocking down billboards.
From Italo Calvino, "The forest on the superhighway", in "Marcovaldo: or Seasons in the City" p. 36-39.
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