REVELATION-final1

DAY ONE(Saturday, 19 April 2014)BATTLEFIELD St. Peter’s SquareTo my delight I am not arrested either at departure or upon arrival. More than the loss offreedom I dreaded having to disappoint the kind and generous souls who placed their trust andvested their hopes in me.The Air Transat plane departed as scheduled at 18:40 PM, April 18, and arrives as scheduled at9:30 AM, April 19. After a smooth night flight and a descent through thick, dark clouds andmoderate rain and a quick transit through customs I exit the terminal as instructed and look forTom, who promised to pick me up at the airport and drive me to the apartment. I have never metTom, but he makes a very good impression as soon as he welcomes me to Italy with a brightsmile and we shake hands and have a merry old laugh as I explain that the Emporio Armani signhe asked me to meet him under is no longer there.His Fiat Scudo van is large enough to easily take my heavy and bulky luggage. I packed for anentire year as I intend to stay in Europe at least six months. In fact, I packed all my belongings,everything I was left with that was not taken away by the government of Canada and the pettycriminals in Kingston who colluded with the authorities to deprive me of my children, propertyand freedom.There is scarce a country on earth that I love as much as Italy. Perhaps it is my partial Italianheritage, as diluted as it is, that is responsible for my partiality for this country. Perhaps it is mylove of beauty and the aesthetic richness of its landscape and cityscapes. Or perhaps it is mytraining in the arts to which I owe my affection for Italy. Whatever it is, I feel at home in Italy:emotionally, physically and spiritually. It is only intellectually that Italy does not satisfy me, atleast not the Italy of today, which seems to suffer from a dreadful case of inferiority complextowards everything Anglo-Saxon.The apartment is more than I could have hoped for: spacious, clean, urbane, well outfitted andideally located. The only drawback is that the building’s façade is being renovated and the fourstory structure is covered in scaffolding. Tom and Mario, the owner, warn me about the noiseand show me around. Once they leave, I have the rest of the day to myself; to unpack, relax, takemy bearings, and collect my thoughts before I become the object of public attention, which Idread but I must.As planned, my hunger strike begins as soon as I set foot on Italian soil. In fact, I even skippedbreakfast on the plane to make this day count as the first day of hunger strike.Tired though I am from the flight, I walk to St. Peter’s, my battlefield, the most beautiful andsophisticated battlefield in the world, to establish some points of reference.18