Imagine you’re in 1962, in Milan suburbs. A tavern with faint light and a jukebox playing old-fashioned 33s LPs. Twist did still not arrive there. You’re in a bar where life goes on and life stories are narrated, sad stories, never happened stories. A bar where writers and painters, nowadays they would be defined as emerging, tell their stories and express their ideas, weird ideas sometimes. Stories bathed in wine.
These inns were called Trani. Like the Apulian city, 800 km south from Milan, where those wines came from. Good quality and high-proof blended wines, brought to Milan from Southern immigrants. Giorgio Gaber vividly described the atmosphere of this taverns in his son “Trani a gogò”.
Trani, the town
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