Scrivo raramente racconti personali, diari, memorie. Questo è uno di quei rari racconti e sono felice di averlo scritto. Grazie a Susanna per averlo pubblicato su Five Minutes.
The huge cruise ship casts its morning shadow on the dock. Through a metal net we see a tent on the tarmac, rugs and mattresses on the floor, a book – a Quran? We get closer, ask the family where they’re from – Afghanistan – when they arrived – last night – do they need anything. We offer fruits, water, but mostly friendly words. All the while, tourists get off the ship, tight in their designer shirts and flowery dresses, waving passports and credit cards that can open any doors. “Where are we? Is this Europe yet?” the family in the tent asks. Is it?