the luminosity of the sky is overwhelming, one is not used to it and backs away, when emerging from the shadow of houses clumped together like a massive lego composition. big blocks with small windows. they extend all over the city, these agglomerations, or whatever the word is in english. taller and taller they stretch out over the diminishing countryside leading to the ancient sea side town of ostia, alongside roman ruins and gypsy camping sites. so the sky is a cut out space and it seems further away than usual. houses and houses and houses and houses in blocks and the quantity of people is astonishing, people squeezed together on top of each other people oozing out from decrepit balconies of so called living spaces built by architects that should be locked up for violation of human rights. and then further out the exagerated villas of the roman bourgeoisie. dogs on leashes and legs in tights jogging along clean footpaths. but not here. right here there are people forcing their way into the subway like ants at peak hour. i am squashed against the belly of a man in his forties, like a tetris piece i breathe in the fluffy perm of an older woman, yapping away about the absurdity of the situation. the new subway was due to be completed a couple of weeks ago but everybody knows that they will be engaging in this compressed sardine ritual for at least another 3 months. if not the rest of the year. if not forever, becase the extension to the anciently outdated line A is not going to make much difference. a homeless man wobbles past asking for some change. sitting in front of me a fat man in a wool suit interrupts his phone conversation to deposit 20 cents on the dirty glove. 20 fucking cents. the beggar asks for 1 euro but the suit man shooes him off with indignation as if he's just made the most absurd request. the gypsy boy i often see down the street jumps on with his violin and begins to play. on the next train a little girl, about 4 or 5, leads the way, hands outstretched, hair clumped in chunks of dirt. she gives me a pitiful look. the girl sitting next to me points out to ignore her, the gypsies train their kids to do that, she says. i give her something anyway. and then i see spread out before me in the glazed eyes of passengers the myriad of justifications and excuses erected like pillars in front of ears and eyes and hearts. rome.... is always the same. there is much more i need to say, and will attempt to do so in the coming days.

journèes lourdes et pleines d'absence.