{Proximity 3} when somebody else’s problem became yours

Roma termini. Big city. Big city people. Big city’s smell. Big city’s dusts. Noise. Kebabs. Halal. Indian. More kebab. Scott hotel. Blond receptionist. Really, blond in every way. Long queue to check in. Angry aunty. Wanted two beds, got one bed. Two beds. One bed. One pissed off aunty. One blond confused receptionist. Angry aunty went up and down the stairs. Noise. Supermarket. Dirt. Ristorante. The chef is the owner. Sparkling wine. Long wait. Munch the bread. Finally food. Sleep. Roma termini in the morning. Police officer pointing at woman with baby. Pickpocket he signaled. We nodded. Held our bags closer. We nodded. We swayed with the train. Colloseo. Closed. Guardian strike. Vatican. Drizzle. The 360 degree line to enter Basilica di San Pietro. The 2 euro yellow umbrella. Shameless people who cut the line. Unashamed tho all the stone saints turned an accusing stare at them. Yes they are. The creation of michelangelo. More sculptures. Pieta. Cherubs. Popes. Saints. More saints. Crypts. Towers. Mosaics. The glory and splendor according to those death renaissance artists. Gold ornaments. Main altars. 26 chapels e? The 551 stairs of the tower. Took the first 200 by elevator. The square. The zero something point. The dinner. Fontana di trefi. Twilight. Sound of water. Smell of cigarettes. Some crowd. Scary crowd. Tired legs. Tired eyes. Stole a spot. Splashed some water. Threw a smile. Blurry photograph. Spanish aunts with their myth. Coins. Loosing interest. Call it a day shall we…

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