Big Brother knocking on the door.

It’s not a substantial problem, seen from here, but the other day, at Barcelona airport parking, while retrieving the ticket at the entrance, the machine looked at our plate number and registered it on the ticket (and somewhere else, I suppose).

I didn’t feel comfortable.

At my bank, in Italy, to enter you have to put your finger on some sort of futuristic device in order to leave a trace of yourself. The service is not so futuristic, though, and many times you leave there also a lot of time and money for different kind of ‘fees’.

Nonetheless, even if the service would be much more efficient, we pay it with the progressively stronger invasion of our privacy. I am not sure it is worth it. I am not sure it is constitutional. I am not sure I like it.

Sooner or later we shall have to choice: or enter clandestinity, using only cash, switching off the computer, wearing big hats and sunglasses or try to mislead them, creating hundreds of alias, opening counts everywhere, using internet for any transaction, but always with different identities.

Ah, chiare fresche e dolci acque