On the walk into work, about to cross the bridge (not the Ponte Vecchio, the far less exciting one just after) I saw what my brain, a moment later, processed as one of the saddest things I've seen. A bearded guy on a bike was also keeping another, smaller bike upright next to him. He seemed to speak to it, as if the child that used to ride it was still there.
As I turned onto the bridge, I turned back to check traffic before crossing, and noticed that he'd let the small bike fall over and was stumbling to pick it up.
