Whatever you think. A memory from a trivial little blog in a dead boy.
On this rainy day in late February I do not know why the memory went to Carlo Giuliani. And our thoughts turn also to the mother Haidi I had the opportunity to meet twice during the show where I played POR LA VIDA.
In one of the two theatrical performances with her were also Argentine mothers of the Plaza de Mayo. Mothers united in the horror of the death of a child. The greatest tragedy, I suppose, that a human being can live. And it was almost embarrassing to be there just to play for them.
I remember perfectly that day in summer 2001. Many of my friends were in Genoa, and I began to be a weekend in the mountains. I remember the news. The tragedy of death. A death that has lost any kind of respect in the massacre ordered a few hours later in the Diaz school and in the barracks of Bolzaneto.
Whatever you think, beyond politics, a memory of Carlo Giuliani is in this day in late February.
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