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Piazza Bella Piazza

Square! The Berlusconi calls for millions of people who want the elections, the calls always Formigoni million (?) of people to save Malpensa (and its contractors), Bossi wants to fill with guns.

For more "old" square square evokes beautiful song about the dark moments of our republic, was sung by Lolli, a singer famous in the left 70.

Yes, because the "square" has always been a place of left, left-left, long wave, which was equipped to defend democracy from those who, in the same square, that democracy would, at least, its bending interest in Piazza Fontana, Piazza della Loggia, the square of the Bologna train station.

There were also pieces of the Italian state and each of those states who call themselves "friends." There were lodges and their members.

In a square is off the hope of a true left, with the sound of words that began a paste in the mouth of Berlinguer, while it breaks down.

Internet did not exist, and the square was the place where those who had no space on TV made its voice heard, to defend their rights, but it was a place that "marched" against someone, it was a garrison.

To remove a symbol to the left of the Berlusconi opposition wanted to occupy himself the "square", that very historic May Day. In placing an entire people was clubbed to Genoa, to show that it was a violent people, while real violence, the few black bloc, even chatted quietly. They have not got one.

In places a boy and a young policeman were crushed in a game played by others.

Then the post-revolutionary Berluska began to harangue from the running board of a car, a Mercedes of course, not Yeltsin, but you know ... the style is always the style.

am in trouble and then to say that it is not right to go into the streets, but I do not like when used as a club. Especially by those in the other hand shakes the already club-TV. Those recommending a pussy for fiction in exchange for a vote in the Senate.

"Piazza beautiful square" C. Lolli - 1976

Square, beautiful square, we passed a mad hare ...

We spent ten deaths

heels, and the woods official

bald heads, politicians

a meter and a half without wings, we spent

unshaven

to cover my shame, I spent

us with their fists in the pocket

without stones for carrion . [...] We went

flags

a torrent of confusion

where I felt reborn

the energy of my good days, and we were really

many,

we were really strong, a

one contradiction:

that row, the ten deaths.