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In Rome, "I am a Martian"

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An alien from the planet Mars lands a beautiful day in the center of Rome, in Borghese Park. Its arrival is so spectacular that it causes an unprecedented effervescence. We celebrate it, we celebrate it, we invite it everywhere. He even has the supreme honor of an audience with the pope. But, little by little, the population of the city, which has seen others, gets tired. The Martian himself is won by a form of neurasthenia, while the Romans, the initial surprise, no longer show him the least interest. Soon they start to address it in the street, most naturally in the world. Â "HÃ ©! The Martian! In the end, the alien will leave as he came, all alone, without understanding anything.

A Marziano in Roma is a new satirical by Ennio Flaiano, published in 1954 and adapted, then, to the theater and television. And I can not thank enough the good soul who has advised me to read it in the summer of 2016, while I was unpacking my cartoons in Rome, so much this text One of the most fascinating features of Roman psychology is the faculty of getting used to everything, even the unthinkable. Buses firing in the middle of the street, at this central metro station that was closed for nine months for a mechanical escalator failure, at an unlikely coalition government rallying the 5 Stars Movement (anti-system) and the League (far right) â € |

HÃ ©! Boris Johnson!

This Martian character lost in an incomprehensible reality has been very much in my first steps as a correspondent, and I thought of him a few days ago, when, in space from one morning, three familiar people have stopped in the street of a "Hé! Boris Johnson! "It seems that we are alike.

I live in the heart of the city, in a district that concentrates both some of the most popular tourist spots (the Panthà © on, Piazza Navona) and the main centers of power of the Republic. Italian. Here, then, from evening to morning, the symbols of past and present intermingle, the slow procession of official cars sometimes interrupting the continuous flow of cohorts of tourists. Some days, it's the opposite.

Most of the time, these two worlds are superbly ignored. In the summer, it's even more obvious. In the neighboring streets of the House of Deputies or Senate, there are often, at meal times, small groups of men dressed in suits – women who allow themselves to wear uniforms. lighter, are less noticeable â € "making their way to the race course among the tourists in the beginning. Impossible to be wrong: you must be an Italian politician not to leave his jacket and his tie in this furnace. The correspondent, he has no choice but to comply with this label, avoiding as much as possible, from June to September, non-air conditioned places.