We went to the other side.
We did the same we could have done here; some shopping, lunch in a café, breakfast in an international hotel, newspapers.
Not much for the discovering of a country.
But without telephone, far away from the office and by way of a trip on the river as adventure topping.
Old Brazza would be revolving in his grave.


The Commission

The Electoral Commission is much alike a Ministry: long corridors, bureaux, people wandering around.

The upper floor is carpeted: less people, less noise, less animation.

Everybody seems to know me and greets me.

It’s a nice feeling, as being part of some thing.

(Of course, I appreciate better these details since I decided to leave).

My vote saved my country

I’ve voted abroad. A piece of one of the six foreigner senators is mine. I have contributed to the healing of poor Italia. May not last long, but it is quite a satisfaction.

Why did we suppose remote Italians were right wing? They might be, but in Italy the problem is not to have the right in government, but to have thugs occupying the power for their own interest.

Welcome back, old, tired, confuse but yet decorous Italy.