Nadine Jansen And Baby

Milan Central Station

Milan Station, look at the times and understand to what extent is the unification of Italy. train from Lecce 180 minutes late. Frecciarossa from Rome 70. Eurostar from London 55. My city is lost in anything, and who cares if a war has cost 600 000 deaths. The country loses pieces, but extended and fragmented. The South, ever so far. Never loved this station: too Babylonian boomy. And now, under its umbrella of iron'm worse. The collapse of the gleaming machine disguised as a consumer. By God, there is no waiting room. Almost nothing to sit on. If you do not have the card I have to fend for Eurostar. There's only bar, you also pay to pee. Can I buy everything I want. But I was denied all rights: to rest, drink of water, reading, silence, the certainty of arrivals and departures. Time is compressed to a gerund phone. I'm going, yes dear, I'm coming. How sad. And no one protest in the city which in 1848 held in check the Austrian army for five memorable days. We stand, Lieutenant Cariolato and I, like horses outside the saloon. Dozens of fire decibel advertising screens, and do not say that the local train tickets are valid only within the regions. There's the new frontier of Lombardy and Veneto, as in 1848, if you spill Fine. And so ends the unit in the rumble of Babel, in a frenzy of mobile phones, designer in the pit of a nation that suffers. To write, the only space is a balustrade dirty pigeon droppings. Who knows what would
Garibaldi. [...]

Rumiz Paul - The Republic