This expression is by now consolidated in the minds of thousands. The second day after the earthquake, I was camped under a fragile sunshade gazebo, as those used for picnics. Many basic things were missing, among them WATER. Electricity was reestablished 24 hours after the earthquake, and phone lines and DSL as well, but no water yet and no methane. Also my car did not have enough fuel to leave the town, and the news from the tv - placed under the sunshade - were that the very few gas stations open were reserved for rescue vehicles. Which is right. My younger brother in law, an artisan that makes medieval reconstructions and works sporadically for re-enactments of jousts and tournaments - is using the WW2 German helmets he collects to get back into the house whenever we need something. Thanks to his passions, he has dozens of friends in different towns, and a group of them from Avezzano is trying to get here bringing a tent supplied from private people.
The past night there was rain, the air inside the car was wet, there was condensation all over, every couple of hours the car has to be started to dry a bit. In the late morning a van arrives with young men in mimetic uniforms. They are so handsome, unshaved - they have been working the past 48 hours - sunburnt, smiling, look like Hollywood stars from some Die Hard movie. They come and embrace everyone, it is the first time I feel tears knocking hard against my tightly controlled emotions, a waterfall. I think they are accustomed to this, they do not seem to notice.
They spend two hours setting up a 4-place tent, under the mountain sun. They leave water, biscuits, tins, pasta, toilet things, and some litres of diesel fuel for my car. But apart from supplies, it is their presence that is most precious, their very presence that just says "you are not alone".
