Roman streets

There are streets, in Rome, that bear, with light grace, names that sound, in Italian, as lovely girls names, but are, actually, dedicated to a Pope who chose that name, in the masculine form, for the Holy seat. In the Monti area, via Clementina, steep and narrow as an alpine path; in Trastevere, a tiny, lovely via Benedetta; in Campo de’ Fiori, via Giulia, long and slim, a pilgrim to the Vatican and to our sacred river. In the Esquilino, Via Paolina hides, in dark silence, behind the great bulk of Santa Maria Maggiore. I often go there and while I walk along its slope in prayer, I close my eyes to meet an aunt of mine who bore the name, hair covered under a veil, in silence and grace of old times gone…

I often walk along that little street to go to the Esquilino hill where, in the covered market,  one can still buy bread as bread should be and vegetables with roots still covered in soil and oranges and grapes that have the taste of sugar and honey. So, please, imagine me strolling along in a soft Saturday morning, bright in gold and blue. You must know that right at the bottom of the via Paolina there is a little fountain where a generous cherub, only one, and little, with wings outspread on top of curly hair, gives his eternal present of water to the passers by. On both sides of the angel, a column gives protection to the holy spot. Well, not really anymore because someone, a hater of beauty, has signed one of the columns with a purple mark, that hits me in the eye whenever I am around. Enough, I said to myself, that morning, and quick and sharp, with a little cloth and water (and lots of energy) I wiped away the ugly signs of human silliness, and while I was there cleaning, under a golden sun, I heard all around me the happy flutter of the wings of the little, generous cherub, bound together, we two, in the real life of water underneath…

One of my handmade Roman bennibags...