Cento Passi — the well-known hundred steps after a meal — accompanied Giuseppe Micciché two or three times a week with his father, who suffered from dementia. The son photographically captures the dwindling moments with his father, the precise documentary gaze marked at once by a gentle tenderness that never slips into sentimentality. The radius of movement was limited to the neighbourhood where the father had lived and worked since coming from Sicily to Winterthur: where the Swiss Locomotive and Machine Works once stood, for which he worked over thirty years, a post-industrial wasteland now gapes; where he lived there is now a petrol station, and where his beloved allotment garden was, a McDonald's drive-in. The changing neighbourhood becomes a mirror and projection surface for paternal memories whose reference points, like the industrial urban space, are dissolving. Cento Passi joins an intimate father-son and immigration story about a slow farewell from a beloved father.