Unfamiliar sensation in a familiar city. All what the intel says is that you left a sign not long ago. And my job is to locate it. During the training I have learnt that I have to collect every evidence, and that often is a piece of insignificant information that is going to save your life. They have told me that here, in Piazza Deffenu, used to transit carriages heavy with salt, wine, cheese and animal skins. This was the landing dock for oppressors coming from the sea. Now there is just a piazza left. All what remains from the past, is the gardens with the huge trees, and this horrible, gigantic glass building, go figure: when I was a child it was revered with pride as a fine example of the modern architecture, but look at it, it’s ugly, and covers the entire view. Keeping me company, there are heavy blond women, they look like they came from Russia, Ukraine, they carers, chatting among themselves, or with relatives on long distance calls. The newsagent guy says that this is the road of power and politics, it’s a road relevant for rulers and protesters alike. And here is the trace that you left behind. That’s clearly stated by the sign you scribbled on the traffic light in front of the newsagent. And the scribble takes me to a white building, not very far from here.