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

  In an earlier blog post, I wrote that my oldest daughter once told me that Rome lives a life of its own. If people disappeared from the city, there would still remain an unexplained presence. I think she was right. In other big cities, like New York, Paris, London and Stockholm, I...
  I ett blogginlägg berättade jag att min äldsta dotter en gång konstaterat att Rom lever ett eget liv. Om människorna försvann från staden skulle den likväl ha kvar en oförklarlig närvaro. Jag tror hon hade rätt. I andra stora städer, som New York, Paris, London och Stockholm har jag...
  Two years ago I and Rose visited Jackie and Joe, good and generous friends from New York. They had rented a villa just outside of Florence. A place with a swimming pool and a lush garden. A Tuscan landscape could be seen between the cypresses and pines that lined the...
  För två år sedan besökte jag och Rose goda vänner från New York, som hyrt en villa strax utanför Florens. En plats med en prunkande trädgård och swimmingpool, mellan cypresser och pinjer skymtades det toskanska landskapet – en dalgång, ålderstigna stenhus och vinodlingar, i fjärran...
  Recently I flew to my oldest daughter's Masters Graduation at Prague Theatre Academy (DAMU) and then made a stopover in Warsaw. It was the first time I was there for more than ten years. At the end of the last century and at the beginning of this one, I worked in Stockholm, while the...
  Nyligen flög jag till min äldsta dotters masterspromovering vid Prags teaterakademi (DAMU) och mellanlandade då i Warszawa. Det var första gången jag var där på mer än tio år. I slutet av förra seklet och i början av det här arbetade jag i Stockholm, medan familjen bodde i Rom. På...
  About a week ago, I saw Ibsen's Hedda Gabler in Hässleholm. It was a performance by the to me unknown Theatre of Halland and my unfounded prejudices against local theaters came to naught through a fast-paced and well-acted show. Since then I have occasionally pondered...
  För någon vecka sedan såg jag Ibsens Hedda Gabler på Kulturhuset i Hässleholm. Det var en föreställning av den för mig okända Teater Halland och mina ogrundade fördomar mot lokalteatrar kom på skam genom en fartfylld och välspelad föreställning. Sedan dess har jag grubblat...
  The morning mist has lifted, but remains blue whitish high above the landscape, without an opening towards the bright blue expanse behind it. Water droplets hang on bare branches, the ground is covered by rust brown leaves. Except for a faint sound of dripping water, the forest...
  Dimman har lättat, men ligger kvar högt över landskapet och färgar himlen svagt blåvit, utan en skymt av öppning mot de bakomliggande, klarblå vidderna. Vattendroppar hänger på nakna kvistar, marken är täckt av rostbruna löv. Sånär som det svaga ljudet av...
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In Spite Of It All, Trots Allt janelundius@gmail.com