The right to tell

With Operazione Colomba I have been in Albania two years and a half, yet I have never felt so strongly, as I have in the last five days since I arrived in Lesvos, the urge and the right to tell.  
The pain of the Albanian families was intimate, profound, and thus I felt that it needed to be told softly, taking the time to process it, quietly, whispering to the ears of those who took the time to understand it.
But the pain suffered by the people on this island screams. So I feel it has to be told.
It has to be screamed so that it will reach everyone’s ears.
It has to be told quickly, to as many people as possible, because it is a pain that requires justice.
The pain of Lesvos’ refugees is an excruciating pain, that tells of violated Rights, of denied childhood and forgotten lives.
It is a pain that doesn’t require a great deal of words to be understood because it is immediate, it is an open palm strike to the face.

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The warehouse of souls

Italy

You know the Amazon department stores with all the packages piled up waiting to be distributed? In Lesbos, a Greek island, the Mavrovouni refugee camp (a sort of 2.0 version of the one in Moria) is like this. It is "the warehouse of souls" crammed into a tiny space in the utter indifference. They have been waiting to be allowed to travel and to reach their destination just like parcels waiting to be delivered, with a single difference: the packages are free to move while the souls are not. They are blocked in the warehouse due to our choices. And they have been remaining crowded for an indefinite time: they know when it begins but not when it will end… In the meantime, the years pass and the hopes die. Hope is the foundation of our way of thinking, it represents the desire for a happy life that pushes us to search new paths to reach it.

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Happy Easter 2021

Happy Easter to all of you
who nurture Peace
by taking care of the gifts of the Earth.
Peace to those who carry on their shoulders
even the burden of those who lack the strength
or the courage.
Peace to those who hate,
because within themselves
love and life have been uprooted.
Peace to those who laid down the arms
to hold plow and seeds to grow
in their hands.
Peace for those who turned into broken bread
and for those who are willing
to do it for us as well.

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