Rome Roma
Roma has been my favorite city during this trip so far. Not that the cathedrals are more pristine, food more delicious, or cobblestone streets more quintessential, compared to Lisbon, Madrid or Barcelona.
The city, feels to me, a lot less pretentious, despite its gorgeousness, and she is, more grounded, in the brutal reality of living, not with resigned concession but with authentic acceptance.
I found that multitude, in the half empty wine bottle, on the park bench, only feets away from the Colosseum. It is staring at a graffiti wall, the bottom of which, wet, piss pissed from piss (alcohol).
I found that in the lively but untidy streets, chaotic even, all walks of life, all shapes of surviving and striving. It is right there, at a seedy corner, a man asked me, “Ciao, cina, want some hashish?”.
I found that, also, that night walk. Out of the small alley, a windy street suddenly opens wide to a plaza. A Romanticism painting unfolding right in front of me. Sky so clear, washed anew from rain during the day, stars congregated right on the top edge of this magnificent church. I have never seen them so close to each other, almost hugging, probably whispering and flirting.
A scene that can hold itself, almost indefinitely.
“Is Rome actually closer to heaven?” I thought, stood still, not sure for how long, time flowing through me with no trace. I noticed myself losing sense of time, literally and also now figuratively, since I stopped checking time, a luxury I know, but also a new habit I enjoyed so much, since my phone was stolen in Barcelona.
An old man, with his cane, paused, right in front of me. He probably has noticed me, standing there for a while. He looked up and then made a sound. So quiet that maybe he just moved his lips, and a second later, moved on, as if this unreal beauty to me, is just another daily banality.
This Rome, forgot about her own beauty sometimes and does not seem to mind so.
I went to an underground rave, 5 EU, Saturday. Literally underground, and challenging to find. The staff look like they are a student group trying to organize a protest tomorrow, now taking some time off to sell drinks by handwritten notes.
I walked in, the space had a peculiar odor, a blend of cigarette, strawberry flavored gum, whiskey, rum, but not unpleasant. Center stage, with a very small dancing floor, is surrounded by shelves and shelves of books. This might be a library, a bookstore, or even part of the university, all in Italian, but by the covers of it, I see familiar faces: philosophy, sociology, feminism, sexuality, surrealist, economics, but completely disorganized, I giggled, when I discovered, a children’s book lying next to Satre, next to Dante.
I don’t know how it happened, but I somehow found this door, so plain that you can easily mistake it for storage. No logo, no poster, not even words. But hidden behind is this surprisingly sophisticated multimedia artwork. Footage of social outcast, feminist protest, Italy politics, visual scattered, sound fragmented, lights splashing onto the surfaces of a labyrinth montage of fabrics. The fabrics themselves, some arranged in symmetry, some contorted, some floating and dancing with wind, some casually lying down, lifeless, represent more or less the texture of these social movements and groups, of different eras of Rome history.
The artist was the only one there when I got in, taking a deep breath, absorbing air of her own work. I imagined an alignment, an invisible line from her lungs to this whole room as she is doing that. When she noticed me, there, a moment later, an initial surprise followed by a sunny smile, “how did you find this?”.
This Rome, aware of her beauty but sometimes actively wants to hide it.
And then there is the dancing. The music, is an interesting mix of, techno, Italian indie and old school on vinyl, French hip hop. From time to time, I heard a line or two of Amy Winehouse and Bob Dylan. We are now, midnight, all dancing, movement, vibration, synchronization. Isn’t this strange? A collection of strangers, from different lands, heart-spaces, too, just connected in one thing, that song, this space, surrounded by texts and random fabrics. The universal language of beats, flow, head shaking, foot thumping, and we are now all connected. This moment, a moment, that can hold itself and hold all of us.
This Rome, unapologetically celebrate her unpretentious beautiful aliveness.
