And Tonight I’m Even Supposed to Attend a Hen Night Party

I was born in the Seventies, during the anni di piombo. Then came the Eighties, the Eighties were cheerful, except for heroin. Needles were an everyday encounter in public parks, you were just instructed not to touch them and that was it. My neighbour used to have a scrawny boyfriend who could barely walk, my posh second cousin turned out to be an addict, and you were supposed to read Christiane F. anyway. The Eighties were cheerful except for Cold War, talks about building a nuclear shelter in the backyard and having to learn what fallout is at primary school. Then came AIDS. Not the happiest era for teen dating and coming of age experiments. Meanwhile the Cold War ended, the Gulf War started. At the end of the Nineties I was at Uni, and girls got shot at Uni, through windows.

Well basically I can’t remember a couple of years that felt safe.

When September 11 happened it was shocking of course. But I was in the office and some colleagues were excited, piecing the facts together, mimicking the explosion. It was starting to feel normal. It was the worst of feelings. It was disgusting. Far worse than feeling unsafe.

A bomb exploded yesterday in a public high school in Brindisi, a girl died. Also we’ve had a 6.0 earthquake during the night. You can’t blame society for earthquakes, but you can definitely blame society for some of their consequences, as the 2009 earthquake in Abruzzo proved only too well.

You know what social progress is? Well, it’s what we’re not having.