Nothing To See Here
Angelo's grim hair flies with the soaring autumn wind coming from the East, beneath it hides a decrepit but steely face with several deep scars and wrinkles carved on it proving this man's eventful history. He sat there silently, watching the teams after teams of foreigners, athletes, diplomats and tourists parade through the mese before him. It is indeed an event of a life time alluring thousands of citizens to come here and have a look at these supposed heretics and barbarians. But this could hardly raise any interest within Angelo's mind, for he has already witnessed too much events through his long run of journey, the only thing that might spark his emotion is perhaps when he saw his citizens finally losing the fear and self abasement on these Westerners from the countless defeats in the history, raising their heads knowing the richness and power the state behind their backs supporting them have.