Love, as Sylvia Vanterpool so memorably pointed out to Mickey Baker, is strange. Here in Italy, it has also been the stuff of some public comment for at least 2000 years. The graffiti below reads, “Lovers, like bees, pass a sweet life.” Below that estimable sentiment someone with different experience added, “I wish it were so.”
This graffiti appears on a wall in Pompeii, destroyed in AD 79. Because of the sentiment(s), the building is referred to as “the house of love.” Not, as the image would have it, “the house of duck.”
Judging from my recent walks, neither the personal passion nor the public philosophizing has slowed down in Italy. Sometimes it is inspiring, sometimes painful, but it is incessantly part of public conversation in ways Americans are not used to. Take this one:
Beneath the beak of that plucky girl’s mount someone has written, “Never renounce your dreams.”
Others chime in less charitably. The original graffiti here reads, “Break the back of the patriarchy - feminist self-defense.”
The unhelpful changes in spelling turn the latter part into, loosely, “stupid feminist.”
Then there is this one, almost too personal to share, except it’s in the middle of a residential street.
“This world is stressful…my girlfriend complains that I come right away.” Like I said last week, even Italians are feeling the effects of Trump.
The author might take heart from a barely distinguishable line on this wall, across from a popular late-night bar.
Look carefully at the lower left. Someone has written, “Sometimes one thinks they are incomplete, but they are really only young.” Preach, brother. Also at left, in pink, a young American exchange student has added her own mission statement. When in Rome, light Roman candles.
For those without love, there is always politics. But this being a more heated passion, it is an ephemeral thing, to be pasted on walls for a season. Take this pairing from the city of Arezzo:
At left, the eternal “Truth is the first casualty of war.” At right, in English, “The international community condemns the silence of this international community.”
Then, more seriously on the next door:
“If you’re afraid, go live at the police station.”
Too often, lately, we seem more afraid that the police station is going to come live with us.
Which brings to mind the graffito I saw in Milan last year:
“When will we awaken from this dystopian nightmare?”
I, personally, have no idea. But I’m sure that when we do, the Italians will arise with an opinion and a marker pen.
Great, fun choices and observations. Saw the same ant with factory from the train recently.
Wry and fun and deep and sad.