rains. Grey sky, the clouds are full, roof wash, rinse the walls, the streets are chasing streams of water wet. Meanwhile, the Tiber, all strutting swells. Spending all day at the station, I have no umbrella, I have a dry change, I can not get wet. The afternoon passed quickly, swinging chat with Gigi and her friend, Cara, on street life and the continuing struggles for territory. In the evening, after dinner, get to the first track Giancarlo, happy to host a pilgrim, which is me, and listen to news from the world of the living.
Giancarlo Florence, on the fifty, small and intelligent brown eyes, gray hair, balding, with the always well-kept goatee, wants to show off and arouse the interest of his audience with enchanting speeches refined, tasty as the best red wines of his beloved Chianti . He has much experience in the world, has studied and traveled extensively for work. Brings with it a great sorrow and great anger, which gives rise whenever plaintiffs also small. It is a kind of reaction, those who have suffered enough and there is more.
Giancarlo has with him a bag with a certain culture. Born and raised in Florence, a master's degree in economics and a master's degree in management in New York, thirteen years working at Benetton, in giro tra il mondo e gli affari. Il matrimonio, la bella vita, l'agio del lusso. Poi la malattia della moglie, la trafila nelle migliori cliniche private degli States, in cerca di una cura impossibile. Fili di speranza spezzarsi uno dopo l'altro, come capelli finissimi. Poi la morte, il lutto, la caduta, il fallimento, primo, vero, irrimediabile. L'inesorabile erosione del resto, la strada.
Giancarlo è un uomo orgoglioso. Testardo, sprezzante, rigoroso, preciso. Sa essere generoso fino alla vita e scaltro alla morte, tenero e cinico, passionale e indifferente. Giancarlo ha un animo attento e fine, più di quanto non voglia lasciare trasparire ai suoi compagni di strada, intento com'è a recitare la parte del duro. So understand well on my way down, the margins of society, and even tries to help me in our meetings, deliver the right words to tell the road and its contradictions.
discuss how the company excluded, the marginal society faithfully reproduces normal (or standard?) And they have not so far away. The only difference perhaps lies in the fact that on the road everything is exaggerated, that everything is permitted. Everything is harder. However, the social dynamics are roughly the same. Namely those of a group in which individuals are at war with each other, except for temporary and opportunistic alliances, ready to betray, to forget and get hurt. On the way we fight for the worst ideals, it makes for misery. And the misery is a terrible beast. Because you're ready for anything, because he struggled to survive and not to feel better, because so you have nothing to lose, even if the life you want.
Last year the Termini station in the road was much harder, now they have cleaned up a force of police raids. Here slept a lot last year released recently from prison. People convicted of murder in perhaps three decades. They were in the middle of a road at fifty, after spending more time in jail in the open air, perhaps with other pending court cases, for which they already knew that they expected a sentence long enough to pass the remaining days behind bars .
" Bah, a man hosì - he says Giancarlo - n'omo he has never ever imparatho vissutho never to do it, one more than he to them without a passatho is also without a futhuro. A man hosì - he concludes - is i'ppiù periholoso dell'omini because it has nothing to lose, has already lost everything. And 'able to kill a coltellathe amiho pe' a quarrel or a HRIS nerves. The Vitha not eg all the same value. Eh depends on where you look i'mmondo and he look at your point of Vith, from i'vvalore h and from .
We agree on the peculiarities of each story, each person and his biography. For the Tuscan sociology can dare studies and forecasts on social groups with a degree of science, but in no case the individual, the person is one with which the processes of its development. A
Giancarlo like to climb into the chair laughing and I mentioned an example to better understand. Watch Caramel, which has not moved from the morning from his blankets sitting like a folding chair into the space between two columns along the first track. Holds him up. " Asshole! Asshole! - repeat - you see a oh!? Lasciatho And he has ruined the other's vitah trovatho n and has run out on the street without even trying 'to do something. And the fact he references all days a turning point, limithandosi to eat and sleep under a un portiho della stazione, lo rende uno stronzo elevatho a i'qquadratho ", insiste Giancarlo.
Carmelo è milanese, di famiglia palermitana, la poliomielite da bambino lo ha reso zoppo, e un brutto giro di spaccio a Milano gli ha dato la spinta finale sul marciapiede. Alle provocazioni dell'amico toscano risponde con un sorriso bonario, sospirando senza scomporsi. Ormai si sta lasciando andare del tutto. Passa giornate intere arrotolato in una coperta marrone e mangia a intervalli regolari. É indifferente, è fermo, è come morto.
" Phiutthostho - conclude seccato, Giancarlo - meglio buttarsi sotto a un treno anzihé lasciarsi imbrutire in codestha maniera, almeno tu scegli i'cche fare of you life, and insennò you live to eat and sleep, as s'avessi i'ccontrollo lost the ship, is a more i'ccapithano you are, or maybe the one you're not even ever been. But then, is to feel, to serve thi icché i'ttimone eh? "
[From" Rome homeless , December 27, 2004] Read
" Rome city seen from behind "
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