When we lived in Rome I made a trip twice a week from our house in Nomantana to my psychiatrist on the other side of the Tiber in Trastevere. It involved a journey that could vary anywhere from 30 minutes to 1 1/2 hours depending on the buses and unpredictable Roman traffic. On January 7th 2010, a Thursday that year, as usual, I took the number 64 to Piazza Venezia changed to a number 10 to Largo di Torre Argentina. From there I walked through the Ghetto and crossed at Isola Tiberina. After almost a week of rain the Tiber was threatening to breach its banks and there was more rain in the air. This was my habitual route but that day it was different.
Thursday – January 7th, 2010.
I’m not sure if it is the season winding down or the gloomy, rainy weather – we had five days of rain in Madrid and Rome has been little better since our return – but my mood today (Thursday) was one of an almost desperate melancholy. Though it was a sunnier and milder day than it has been I found myself very aware of the ruins in this city as I made my way over to Trastevere. Not the Auralian Walls or Porta d’Ottavia – those have become almost commonplace – nor the decaying Renaissance palazzi hiding behind the chipped veneer of the Baroque. I was noticing the ruined people who were around me and seem to have become more numerous on the streets in the past few weeks.
There now seems to be more homeless people sleeping in doorways and sadly more lost souls…
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