Urbanism is approached as the design of metabolism, where density, shade, rhythm and encounter form the basic rights of collective life. The city becomes an organism that breathes, where infrastructures are lungs and plazas are emotional commons. Against the speculative metastasis of touristification and seasonal voids, projects insist on durability and civic belonging: neighbourhoods that remain alive beyond calendars, streets that recover their rhythm of continuity, and spaces that invite permanence rather than absence. This practice of urbanism dismantles clichés of master-planning and instead works through prototypes, diagrams, and field actions. Plans are not drawn to control but to provoke, to open paths for mobility, intimacy, and ecological care. Each intervention acts like a choreography of walking, shade, water and vegetation, producing atmospheres of cohabitation. The city is reframed as a fragile but resilient commons, resisting the reduction of housing to transaction and of space to profit. Projects operate simultaneously on the territorial and the intimate: tower neighbourhoods with gardens, shaded boulevards and collective orchards, but also pocket parks that restore psychological health and micro-ecologies within the dense urban fabric. The political demand is always present: to guarantee walkability, accessibility, and civic generosity, especially in contexts marked by speculation, gentrification, and displacement. Urbanism thus becomes ritual and pedagogy: a practice that addresses the scale of the body as much as the territory, creating spaces that allow for encounter, rest, and imagination. It is less a discipline of planning than a choreography of affect, where urban infrastructures host community rhythms, and where design acknowledges fragility as a central urban condition. By rethinking duration, rhythm, and collective intimacy, this urbanism confronts the violence of temporary cities and offers a radical ethics of inhabitation.
