Otherwise Known as Emo
On Friday morning, every paper ran the same cover story: Six Italian soldiers had been killed by a suicide bomber in Kabul. Corriere Della Serra, La Repubblica, even the local edition of The Metro, all seemed to be working with the same set of photos of the event’s aftermath. For the first time since we arrived here in March, it was like we were overhearing the entire country sighing, simultaneously. From left to right, the reaction was the same. Everyone was in a state of shock.
Taking the dogs out for their afternoon stroll today, I decided to walk them down a side street, two blocks from here, where I knew the traffic would be light, and the pedestrians at a minimum. Hemmed in by a vacant elementary school on one side, another undergoing renovation, and a college campus, Beroldo street also boasts some of the best political posters in the neighborhood. Lo and behold this unambiguous response to Thursday’s death toll in Afghanistan.
“Enough Italian blood for American petroleum,” it reads.