The streets are empty with no one in sight,
I check the big clock of the tower
behind the basilic of Saint Francis of Assisi.
It’s 2 o’clock on a mid-summer Tuesday afternoon.
Everything’s shut.
Everyone’s resting.
My heart’s hitting the walls of its all so tight ribcage,
as I need to cross the brightly lit square
and go to the other side.
You cry.You postA photographOn your Whatsapp StatusYou send offA scurry of WhatsappMessagesTo potential mourners.You gloatOn your movability.You writeA cathartic...
