At the edge of the city, where the urban grid starts to fade, I find myself on the banks of the Sangone stream and the Stura di Lanzo river in Turin, Italy. These banks, particularly during the winter months, are covered with a wild green made up of leafless trees, fallen trunks, small ponds, and all sorts of detritus brought in by the water. Beneath a grey sky, the cold mist that is felt contributes to a silent and unquieting atmosphere that visually isolates me from the city. Through the moist and opaque layer, one can hear the sounds of traffic jams, distant voices, music and occasionally sirens rushing past. On the ground, urbanity also makes itself felt in the form of high-voltage poles with their electric noise, in underpasses where I take shelter from the rain, and in the numerous lost and found objects, traces of human presence that intertwine with the local vegetation. Few people pass by and, here and there, one might mistake a stray dog with someone's pet, or a campfire with a pile of stones. There is a striking analogy that these places bring to mind, one of an imaginary childhood battle ground where no battle has yet taken place, but also a resemblance with an idea of a city: one of a seemingly occasional encounter between disconnected elements in a dynamic of self-management. Sponde is an encounter with the unstable nature of spaces that reveal the other side of urban greenery: hybrid, sometimes neglected, marginal or mostly unknown territories, where human-altered landscapes, wild spontaneous vegetation and transitional uses of the land collide. On the verge of becoming a third landscape, these spaces are neither neglected areas nor natural reserves, but interstitial urban parks without no symbolic status, where biological, cultural and social diversity finds its place beyond the planned and designed green structures of the inner city.