BolognaBlog: Wannabe Gangster Gunman



04:45 p.m.

Spring in Bologna is like a fairytale. I’m lying in the grass in the park while the hippies and homeless next to me stop picking flowers, pack up their weed & start running from the screaming junkie who has a fucking real-looking gun. Everyone is leaving the park except for that idiot, his crew and a young couple because they are busy having sex. I flip the bird to the wannabe gangster gunman as soon as I notice he’s out of munition and continue to watch clouds & write. Cops are coming.

04:55 p.m.

Regular and military policecars block the area for a few minutes. Too bad I’m short-sighted, I can’t see the wannabe gangster anymore. Two refugees ask me what’s going on, we talk in Italian because I don’t speak French (yet) and they don’t know English (yet). They tell me that they sit in the park all day after class because they can’t find work before their Italian gets better. A guy passes by and asks if he can buy weed from them („erba“ in Italian). Instead of calling him a racist the two young men just laugh. He leaves, with an ashamed look on his face. I try a reverse AfD-move and tell the two refugees to find work in Germany. But both like Italy much more and don’t want to go to Germany. I know what they mean.

06:10 p.m.

I’m back home to check the news and eat dinner like nothing happened. Finally I start asking myself why I was 99% sure this guy had a fake gun and why I didn’t even try to get away. Wouldn’t it be a normal, sane reaction to run for your life?  Why was I so calm? I have 3 answers to this: 1. I went to a lot of demonstrations where policemen wore guns and therefore know how real guns look/sound 2. When hippies run while screaming „Ha una pistola!“ I consider this as funny, not scary. 3. I really don’t give a shit about anything and must be dead inside.

10:00 p.m.

I thought a little more about what happened in the park today. Acutally, I did react like expected. I didn’t run like the hippies, but I didn’t try to take a video or do something about the weird situation either. I didn’t even think of calling the cops, someone else did. I just kept on writing. This is what I do.


Going back to stealing coffee from my friend. Being dead inside has its perks.

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