Thinking about my shaken land

Tonight, a powerful quake (magnitude 6.3 Richter, 8-9 Mercalli) hit the center of Italy, not far from Rome. Abruzzi region and L'Aquila city in particular, that was mainly interested by the earthquake are now counting his losses both in terms of human life and artistic/historical patronage.

Up to this moment 40 people died (at least 5 of them were children) and 40 are missing.

A civil protection official told the BBC that 3,000 to 10,000 buildings may have been damaged only in L'Aquila, a medieval city founded in the 13th Century and rich of Baroque and Renaissance buildings. Italian journalist Paulo Pacitti told that the city centre had been hard hit.

Apparently not only civil buildings were damaged, but some churches, chapels and historical buildings collapsed as well. A legacy of the past of immeasurable value got lost in few seconds.

At the same time, many other small towns in the area are completely burned to the ground. Their buildings, much older and less subject to static measurements more common in bigger cities.

From time to time, I am giving a glance to the dozen of yellow daffodils I bought this morning on my way to the office from an old lady sitting on the wayside.

Today, I cannot avoid thinking yellow is the color of danger.

Scent of violets

Sunday morning, on my way to the UN House, I saw some kind of violet reflection on grass' surface. I'm walking that street twice a day (minimum) several days a week, hence I was surprised I didn't notice that particular light effect before. I approached the flowerbed and knelt down to see what was the cause of such an amazing effect.

Violets.

Dozens and dozens of small, colored and fragrant violets were all over the flowerbed enjoying Bishkek's early spring sun. I never thought there could have been violets in Kyrgyzstan, let alone in the very center of Bishkek!

This morning, walking to the office, I gently plucked three violets that I left with a "good morning" message on Saltanat, Nuriana and Natalia's desks.

It would be a nice life if every week could start with a new flower.