After two rainy but productive weeks in Berlin I’m taking a plane to Rome. My hands are still covered by yellow paint we used in a workshop and my head is full of German bureaucracy that turns the life of its newcomers into one big struggle. My flight is two hours delayed, I have a lot of time to think.
I finally arrive to Rome. There is a table soccer in the baggage claim hall and espresso from an airport machine tastes delicious. All the particularities are popping up in front of my eyes. I breathe in the familiar warm air and try to figure out the way to my bnb. I am very nicely surprised when I get there. The tiny village-like street is still alive and full of Italians eating their late dinners. My room is perfect. I am exhausted but my veins are filled with excitement.