The bite of the steel snake

There is long a kind of snake made of steel and toxic fumes that crosses the city. An endless grey metalized line that, without rest, winds its heavy and bulky body among the narrow urban streets. An animal that moves to a slow rhythm puffs and leaves its waste. From early morning, to late evening. A metallic reptile that carries within itself tired men and lonely women.

In Rome there are nearly two millions cars. For every hundred inhabitants there are nearly eighty. In London and Tokyo, there are far less (a few more than thirty). This kind of invincible anaconda pollutes, scatters poison, and always takes the lethal concentration of thin dusts higher. Someone tries to get rid of the hold of this steel python. Despite everything, they cross the urban spaces on foot.

Someone else, as though they could do it alone, push their feet over pedals of a bicycle. Others, braver, get on public transport. Meanwhile the snake, under the sleepy eyes of a few that could strike it with lethal blows, continues to tighten its grip. More and more every day.