La piazza è chiusa

Sun. Light. Whiteness. The daily bustle of a square where its colours and movements are free express themselves. An open space that tells the story of an entire town. Suddenly it goes dark and everything, clothes, faces, movements, blends into one, single colour. The death of a square, caged inside a dictatorship. The sound of a monotonous, oppressive march can be heard, while the survivors are merely walking uniforms, bodies without souls. No more smiles, just a jet-black cloth with the torturer's face dominates everything. Troops arrive on the scene and grab a young boy, tearing him away from his girlfriend, then they beat him up and bundle him into the jeep. ...Then a voice cries 'STOP'. Thank goodness, it's all part of a film! We still have the freedom to express our opinions, beliefs and live our life. The director calls a lunch break and the troupe goes off to eat. Two women pause to gaze at a poster portraying a message and a pair of eyes. They know what it's all about, they've actually been through that nightmare. Their gaze goes no further, and they keep to themselves what will never be just a memory.