off the train, through the station yard, crowded with people and traffic, and I get stuck at the bus stop, already full of people. A few minutes later, the driver starts the engine, shuts the door and goes. I'm there, lost in my thoughts when I see a guy approaches me. Will take decades, is damaged, dirty, a bad smell, and speaks to me with a plaintive tone junkie in withdrawal symptoms.
- Sorry, this leads to Biri?
could not be directed anywhere else: this is a bus going in the industrial area, usually port workers, or students who fall in the area of \u200b\u200bthe colleges, but also passes dall'orrido square drowning in traffic, which together with surrounding streets, is home to one of the leading centers for selling drugs in the region. Moreover, the area is appropriate, because from there part of a theory-box warehouses that are home to shopping malls and retail franchise, which ends a few miles away with the apotheosis of retail, near the highway. Not one of the most distressing I have ever seen.
I admit, I'm not happy with the attention addressed by this individual looking unattractive and disreputable, but I can not pretend nothing happened.
- Yes, go to Biri.
The answer did not satisfy him. Obviously it is too anxious to get to buy the dose they need, and afraid to be on a wrong bus.
- But be sure to Biri?
- Yes, now go up from here, then at some point turn left, go to colleges and then goes to Biri.
- You go down there?
In a flash, I suppose that someone has changed during the weekend, the path of this line, and that I'll finish slain by a junkie in withdrawal symptoms that he thinks the wanted cheat.
- No, I go first, when running.
- But sure there's going?
At this point, I start too impatient, and I answer:
- Listen, if you do not believe me try asking the driver.
The answer comes, and not words, but the tone impassioned, desperate to hit me:
- I asked him, but he treated me badly.
Behold, I in my heart I felt discomfort, revulsion and even a touch of fear. But at least I have not treated badly.
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