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UN ATTIMO FA (“A Moment Ago”) For an indicible unspeakable act, I have been struck by the eloquent simplicity of stories and condolences. Posters of solidarity with America posted throughout Rome A CHILDHOOD FRIEND She told me that I am in Rome rather than New York, because God knew that it would be unbearable for me to see what has happened to the city that I love. She described to me how she shielded her very young grandchildren from the news by turning off the t.v. Then, took them for a stroll and sang “The Ants go Marching.” She reflected upon the dichotomy of such innocence amid such tragedy. THE GLADIATOR While standing outside the Colosseo subway entrance, a man in a Gladiator costume came up to me, discovered I was American, and tendered his sympathies. He then revealed that he had lost a dear friend himself, a young woman, who worked in the Towers. A FRIEND IN MANHATTAN As soon as he learned that two planes had hit the Towers, he went to pick up his son at a school just blocks from the World Trade Center. Within moments of arriving, the towers began to collapse. He described the scene of panicked people running, “like a scene out of Godzilla.” THE ROMAN NEWSPAPER SALESMAN The day after the attack, I bought newspapers at a newsstand near the Piazza Navona, asking for the International Herald Tribune and La Repubblica. The next day, the man remembered and handed me the same two papers, while gently giving me his condolences, in Italian. A BEST FRIEND This said it all: “I will NEVER forget this day. It is our Pearl Harbor.” AN ITALIAN TEACHER Just moments after the towers collapsed, I rushed to school to find my American friend. I burst into his private lesson, crying “Something terrible has happened. Not to me. But, to us. To our city.” The teacher told me that she will never forget my words.