WALKING HOME AT TWELVE O´CLOCK P.M.

I took the bicycle down to the Metro. However, when I thought about returning home there was a strike and I had to walk back.

For several years they have been constructing a Metro station by Colosseum. Work began in 2013 and might finish in 2024, though this is doubtful. Metro line C cuts straight through the very heart of Rome. The ground is unstable and insecure, filled with remains of ancient structures. They work day and night. Below me tunnels were dug through ancient Roman military barracks - more than thirty rooms decorated with wall frescoes and mosaic floors. 

The town was quiet and almost empty.

Giorgio Castriota, called Skanderbeg, born 1405 in Kruja, Alabania, died in Lezha 1468. 

The pyramid of Rome, built 18 -12 BC as a tomb for Gaius Cestius, priest and head of one of ancient Rome´s four religious congregations, Septemviri EpulonumThat is all we know about him.

Stazione Ostiense, underpasses.

Eataly

Someone lives here the entire year. He puts flowerpots in front of his trailer. I wonder who he is. Someday I will ask him.

The marketplace in Garbatella.

House entrances are lit all night.

Ponte Settimia Spizzichino

My bicycle was still standing by the Metro station.

Almost home.

BLOG LIST

I assume I already have mentioned that one of the main motivations behind my blog writing is that I consider my blog as some kind of pantry to store what Germans use to call Lesefrüchte, fruits from reading, as well as memories. After having returned to Hässleholm from an extraordinary...
Jag tror att jag redan nämnt att en motivation bakom mitt bloggskrivande är att jag betraktar bloggen som ett skafferi för förvaring av såväl läsefrukter som minnen. Nyss hemkommen från en härlig påskvecka med familjen i Rom tänker jag att det vore skada om flera av mina mer eller mindre...
Since ancient times, lies the cottage of mighty witch Baba Yaga close to the heart of Russia's vast forests. For sure it is no gingerbread house, built to attract hungry children lost in the woods, although its owner more often than not has a ravenous hunger for human flesh, in particular succulent...
Väl dold i djupet av Rysslands milsvida skogar ligger sedan urminnes tider häxan Baba Yagas boning. Det är sannerligen inget pepparkakshus, byggt för att locka till sig aningslösa skogsvandrare, även om dess ägare allt som oftast har en glupande hunger efter människokött, helst mört sådant från...
One night, my ninety three-year old mother fell down in the kitchen. Somewhat dizzy she had grabbed hold of the pantry door, which came loose and fell over her, she plunged into the stove. After I had hastened down from the upsatirs bedroom I found her lying on the floor, with the large door ontop...
En natt föll min nittiotreåriga mor omkull i köket. Hon hade blivit yr och gripit tag i skafferidörren, som lossnade och föll över henne. Hon störtade in i spisen och när jag kom nerrusande från andra våningen fann jag henne liggande på golvet, med den stora dörren över sig. Som vanligt beklagade...
Sometime in the 1990s, I rented a room at the Swedish Institute in Rome, located on the outskirts of Villa Borghese, Rome's central park with pruned pine trees, palaces, fake temples, a zoological garden, fountains and ponds. The Institute is housed in a magnificent building of red brick and white...
Någon gång under 90-talet hyrde jag under en månads tid ett rum på Svenska Institutet i Rom. Institutet ligger vid utkanten av Villa Borghese, Roms centralt belägna park med tuktade pinjer, palats, tempel, zoologisk trädgård, fontäner och vattendammar. Institutet är inrymt i en praktfull byggnad av...
A violent cold has pinned me down for an entire week and I have felt like a clubbed seal, bedridden with a splitting headache. Most of the time, I have devoted myself to watching magpies and small birds jumping around among the branches of a tree just outside my window. It rains a lot, sometimes it...
  En våldsam förkylning fällde mig som en fura och under flera dagar har jag likt en klubbad säl varit sängliggande med en sprängande huvudvärk och inte ägnat mig åt mycket mer än att titta på skator och småfåglar som hoppar kring bland grenarna på trädet utanför fönstret....
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In Spite Of It All, Trots Allt janelundius@gmail.com