14th and last post. They say all roads lead to Rome. Even that of Mussa Khan and the thousands of Afghanmuhajirins for whom Italy is just a stop in the restless and tormented search for a better life. Among the building sites along the Ostiense Station stops the story of a journey that has no end
The bus no. 60 noisily runs on the jagged paved road, while rows of plane trees sway with the evening breeze. Rome looks the same as when I left two months ago. Outside the window, one after the other the monuments of the eternal city go by: the Baths of Diocletian, Piazza Venezia, the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. The Imperial Fora crash against the grand mass of the Colosseum.
The bus runs along three quarters of its circumference, finally showing the side of it lit by sunset. Just two days ago, in Greece, during a windy night spent outside, Mussa Khan asked me: “What is the Colosseum like up close?”. I answered: “Soon you will see it with your own eyes”. Continue reading