at the Ghetto of Rome my life between decay (and inconvenience) – Corriere.it
I live in the center of Rome, in the Ghetto: they are among the privileged lucky fools who live in the most beautiful place in the world. And that for this they have to serve sentences and punishments. If all goes well a dozen abandoned scooters in front of the door that fall on you. For heaven’s sake they are ecological! What are you complaining about. Sometimes they are groups of bicycles but also boxes of fruit and vegetables. Sure, what’s strange about it? In the morning there is the garbage devoured by seagulls during the night that dawn discovers glued to the road. Mice happily eating leftovers from leftovers. Invasion of arrogance and tables, and Covid and the measures to help the alleged lost tables have nothing to do with it (this has always been the case here, now only worse). Tables everywhere, in the street on the sidewalks, in the alleys (no wheelchair goes by, an ambulance stretcher does not pass, I do not walk with the dog), even in the alleys under the scaffolding! The more you ask please don’t take me around the block to get home and the more they multiply. And the owners, as if nothing had happened: good morning Elisa, good evening Elisa how are you today?
How do you want it to go? Saturday evening and Sunday at lunch the peak of the madness of customers inhumanly crowded customers, ready to eat on the rubbish bins with herds of mice under their feet, unbearable background noise, players who make a mistake every time with a wrong piece of repertoire and “you thanks for the spontaneous applause! ».
The carabinieri, one at each corner, watch the scene: we can’t do anything. I know this but I believe that at this point chaos is also a matter of security and public order, since I, who have lived here for centuries, cannot drive in front of the house even with the suitcase because I am a potential if to threaten.
Once closed, restaurants dump exorbitant amounts of waste – often in front of my door, better to dirty my entrance, I understand them! – the seagulls arrive, ferocious predators that pierce any envelope and clog the road. To get out you have to wait for them to come and retrieve the bags otherwise you risk aggression. In comparison, a rat bite is nothing. AND then of course the bollards – strange objects emerging from the road – broken for months and replaced by graceful barriers that the Ama, the suppliers of the various restaurants, etc. etc. haul brutally at any time of day or night.
Yet never saw a policeman. And so? Change house, neighborhood, city? Help against incivility? Is there really no other way? Violates this life between folklore and pain. Between helplessness and exasperation. Here, more than a political solution, it would be enough to respect the law. Or have a little sense of reality and respect for each other. But perhaps this too is now a political question. Or metaphysics?
5 October 2021 | 07:44
© REPRODUCTION RESERVED