These days, for health reasons, although not serious, is unfortunately forced to remain at rest more than my innate laziness advise me to do. I know, it gets worse and can also take advantage of this semi-momentary stillness to read and keep abreast of world events and especially Italy ... sob!
These days what I see and I live in California is that piece of ocean and road that I can see from the windows of the house, nothing new to be detected then.
But something to tell from here, halfway around the world, I do the same because in these cases (if you have the patience to continue reading you'll understand) only 10,000 km to transform concern into indifference.
The revolt broke out Feb. 17 the Libyan people against their dictator and oppressor, a few days after the demonstrators, civilians are being bombed by hunting and civil war.
I am deeply shocked at the news of the bombing on the crowd, an unprecedented violence, unacceptable that grabs his stomach and does not accept excuses whatsoever.
Immediately my thoughts turn to a person who works in Tripoli, a friend who no longer go for a long time but they are regularly informed by a mutual friend.
I rush to write a mail (not telephone for reasons of time) to you, the common friend, to ask if he has heard from him.
He responds to a distance of hours (always the intruder this time), is worried, he manages to have some information that only the mother confirms that her daughter can not communicate with either Internet or by mobile phone but only through the lines desk phone.
He explains that he is with two Italian colleagues and together they decided to get to the airport in the city hoping to catch a flight to Italy, otherwise the alternative, unhappy and insecure, I might add, calling Tunisia.
I can not but wonder how can they escape, perhaps with the car despite the conscious fear of snipers and mercenaries firing on the crowd indiscriminately.
Provo indescribable anxiety and I suppose to live and to face a situation of war and disorder that we Europeans for generations of post-war is almost inconceivable.
The scenes of war we see in the movies and now we have almost become addicted even if we are not enchanted by the special effects, explosions, but when you hear with your ears and see with your eyes the horror I think it opens a deep wound in the soul, hard to heal, even if it all ends well for you ... but then you are not the same!
For a couple of days no one has more news, our mutual friend is worried and does not know how to have at least the assurance that all three gentlemen are well. Then last night, she, from Libya, through the mother does always know, which is located at the airport in Tripoli, is holding a ticket for the next day, but hopes the first flight leaves.
This morning, around 10:00 in California and that the Italian 7:00 pm, I received an SMS from our mutual friend, is brief but embodies the explosive force of good news.
I can almost see the muscles of his face relax, close to grin tension that gives way to smile: "It 's in Rome."
And tears come down.
A thought for those who died and are dying in the fight for their freedom and dignity of human being.
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