When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man,
to whom thou sayst,
“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,” — that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
From “Ode on a Grecian Urne” by John Keats
“We make steel not chocolates”. With this slogan the Terni football fans from the working-class city of steel mills, addressed their arch-rivals the Perugina from the middle-class city of Perugia. Every city has its symbol, and Terni’s has never been a monument, it has always been about steel and its production. For more than a century this industry has led to the development of the social, cultural, urban and economic development of the entire basin surrounding Terni. A city along with a tradition of iron engineering and manufacturing was born around the steel works. In fact, the “Terni” industry group was up until recent times one of the most important steel, chemical and hydroelectric centers in Europe. Then came the time of the dismemberment of the corporate sectors, the arrival of multinationals, the relocation of factories, the heavy industry crisis and the socio-economic system linked to it. This is the story, in pictures of what has been achieved and what remains of that experience. It is a parable about the clash of an industrial development model against globalization.
Franco is an invisible Homeless. During the day he works a lot to make some money, and during the night he sleeps in the waiting room of the emergency department, sometimes inside empty buses. He is 54 years old and 8 years ago he did loose both partner and job. The exwife relatives drove him from the house where he invested all his money and effort to renovate it. From that day he began to live in a garage where he still rests few objects, and where he can take a shower, then in the street. in recent years has failed to get public housing and is waiting to turned 65 years old, and access to pension money and he will benefit of the 27 years of contributions for his old work. The only memory of his past is one picture of a lunch with his wife and some friends.
Silent night, holy night! All is calm, all is bright.
Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child. Holy infant so tender and mild,
Sleep in heavenly peace, Sleep in heavenly peace.
A short story about homeless sleeping under christmas lights