There is a piece of Purgatory in the city of San Francesco where every day, now, by minute, minute by minute, people serve sins on their skin – if you want to call them in a broad sense – that others have committed the delegation of the “sovereign people”. The errors, distractions, transgressions and vices of the wrong choices are expressed (some could also be defined as wicked) in the emergency room of the hospital that bears the name of the protector and patron of Calabria. Apart from the staff of the doctors perpetually in trouble, if not underestimated – and on which one could overflow for once: so much to talk about it would be of little use since everything has been said and its opposite – for over a week, or perhaps more (while in recent days everyone was tearing their clothes for the failure to open the hemodynamics department) also forfeit the CT. And loss in general silence. Most of the “highly” people were committed to discussing other things.
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