chariot completed with horses. The hooves on cobblestones hide the noise of cars and the city seen from above tastes different, stepping back into the past. The queue in front of the Colosseum is already long despite the cold and the waiting times, ready to have a sight of one of the world most famous places to take back to their city photos and souvenirs to give to their friends and families. Later on, are going to arrive also the couples of newlyweds still dressed up for the usual photographs between the most amusing scenarios of the Capital, and so this place will acquire a new aspect and meaning for who choose it as his/her destination.
After spending the morning pretending to be a tourist, I come back with deliberate pace towards the not too far place of my meeting. I meet my interlocutor by chance at the base of the Vittoriano and so we decide to talk about my job open air without locking us up in his office
between paperwork and the dark of the room. They want to remake the fliers of the Monument and so they need new photographs, maybe taking advantage of the view of Rome that you have going up to its highest part, available only to chosen few. I’ve already worked for them a couple of time in occasion of particular exhibitions inside the ‘typewriter’, as the Altare della Pace is called in Rome. Since in 2000
they allowed the access of the staircase, once in a while I like to spend a few hours visiting the Vittoriano, seeing all its features dedicated to Italian cities and regions, and the part that I enjoy the most is the sacrarium of battle flags, countless artifacts ad sigils that taste like past between the texture of the consumed fabric. I am glad to accept the job and I immediately begin to take some pictures, taking advantage of the access to areas not granted to regular visitors. From up there, the city grabs you between marbles and ancient Medieval buildings until the luxury of the ancient Rome, all in the same view. It almost looks like you can touch the sun and immerge into the clear sky that blows cold blasts from time to time to awake you from this surreal and magic atmosphere.
I would like to stay there, curled up in some space between the columns and the endless staircase to see Rome and all that little ants that move back and forth through the streets below. I pick up my courage and I leave that place charged with so much history that it almost makes you hear the voices of everyone who was there before you, before that theatrical monument had been built. I decide to walk home, taking advantage of the day that spared us last night rain. I take a picture of the puddles that reflect the streets and in one there’s me, reflected with my blue jacket and blue jeans, black messy hair, and
sunglasses hidden behind the camera. I am there too, for a change, and as I see myself reflected in the little puddle I almost don’t recognize myself from how long I have not been thinking about myself and my actual life. A period spent only at work, without a lot of friends whom share something else with, and with few meaningless women whom spend some nights that don’t leave any emotion in me. A cold period, made more intimate by my photographs that however tell the life of other people and other places. There’s a bit of me in every shot, but it’s nothing compared to what a photographer can do if he puts his heart into it. I should start not to take commissioned pictures again, looking for myself inside of them, and maybe the daisy photograph is the first step to rediscover myself as changed and turning my life around, my life which now belongs only to others as a harlot that is only devoted to her job to please the others.
I cross Via del Corso for a little section for then throwing myself in the little back street that leads to the always crowded Pantheon. In that moment, Stefano phones me. He works in an office just behind Corso Vittorio Emanuele and knowing about my meeting, he called me to order for a quick lunch in his areas. In a few minutes we are already together, going through Campo de’ Fiori to eat one of the delicious express sandwiches made in a little place without chairs or tables. My favourite one is the eggplants and mozzarella one and so, lunch in hand, we continue our stroll until we stop on a bench in Piazza Navona. I start to tell my friend about my morning starting from the Vittoriano and then I confess about the daisy. As soon as I start to describe the moment at the café, he stops walking and eating and totally taken by my story, ‘Now is up to her’ says without reflecting
much on his words followed by endless silent minutes. ‘Finally, this absurd affair can work right, you should know each other and maybe you’ll find out that you have something true to share or simply that you don’t belong together. Leaving aside the morning look, you’ll start to think about building a life with a real woman who is not only a one-night stand’.
The idea that I might have idealised a woman that I don’t even know scares me, and if she wasn’t really as I believe? It would be like losing her forever without ever having had her. It often happened to me to think about her outside the café, I gave her many names and I have imagined her in a lot of different situations. I’ve imagined her by my side while we live the places that I love the most. In my dreams I took her to my mother’s village, we’ve climbed mountains and we’ve made long strolls by the seaside. We’ve even kissed in the shadow of ancient trees.
‘Are you listening to me? If she’s not going to make the next move, enough… You’ll go there, and you’ll introduce yourself and it all happens the way it has to, once and for all.’ Stefano goes on, now completely caught up in my story and willing to arrive to a conclusion, whether it’s positive or negative. I agree with him, now I’ve realised that we must move on, we’ve been standing at the entrance of this non-affair from too long. I don’t even know her name yet. I say goodbye to my loyal friend, I go back to my way home completely wrapped in my thoughts, as much that I arrive home without even notice the miles travelled on foot. I didn’t even notice people I stepped by on the road, cars speeding beside me, fountain that were constantly streaming water, and thoughtless birds in the sky. I came back to reality only at
the sight of my closed front door before my eyes like a silent and massive guard. In the distance, I discern the old lady with my neighbour’s dog, so I hurry up to enter, with not a great desire to remain stuck on the door chatting about medicines or about the dog potty spread in who knows what street of the district.
As soon as I close the door behind me, I breath a sign of relief and I continue moving silently not to be overheard from the outside and I jump on the bed. When I woke up I am in a pull of sweat and I’m still wearing my jacket. It’s 7 p.m. and I have been sleeping for almost all the afternoon abandoned in a deep sleep. After a swift shower and with my pyjama already on I turn my laptop on and I start to work on the photographs taken today. The most beautiful are the one of the daisy and the one of the paddle with me inside… I start to recognize myself in what I am doing, and this provides me with the right energy to find the courage to turn around the story with the girl in the café.
The day after, despite I’ve been awake until late to work on the computer, I woke up following my weekly routine so that I arrive at the café at the usual hour curious to see what she was going to do after my little gift of yesterday. When I enter, I see her already sitting at her table, as usual, prettier than ever. She gives me a look, blushing a little while she turns her farce towards her friends who stands still and stares at her. There’s something weird about their behaviour, they’re not immerged in the other mornings usual naturalness between their chats in a low tone. The counter is empty, so I sit at my usual corner waiting for the barman to come. I quickly glimpse at her again and as soon as she notices that I am looking at her, she turns away from me again.
With my arm I drop an envelope that was probably laid on the sugar can in the corner. I pick it up and I notice that there’s written ‘For…?’
and on the side there’s a little flower sketched. I stop for some moments without knowing what to do and then, caught up in curiosity, I open it, being the only one in the place. Inside of it there’s a little chocolate with a daisy sketched on it. The adrenaline is going, here’s her move, the envelope is just for me. I smile while I realise that there’s also a card inside, written in pen: ‘We have other senses beside the sight and today I’ll try to please the taste too. A.’
