On the train to Rome – They say I’m traveling Second Class… First Class is offered a drink upon being seated.

We roll past little Italian towns on the journey, small hills dotting the horizon – A man and his wife place a cover on his little car and roll it to a protected spot in the backyard. The walls protecting the train from that quaint Italian life are thickly covered in grafitti – the underworld of disgruntled or bored youth saying “build your wall – we can still reach you!” Italian pop music plays tinny from somewhere in the traincar and I push off sleep as I watch red-roofed homes pan out of view.