The memory of open wounds
There are wounds so deep they never really heal. They are the wounds we share with other people, whether we know them or not, the wounds that remain open no matter how long it's been since they were inflicted. These wounds define us, they speak of who we are and where we come from. This is the story of one of these wounds.
On the morning of Saturday 2 August, at 10:25am, a time bomb hidden in an unattended suitcase detonated inside Bologna railway station. The explosion was so devastating it caused the collapse of a 50 meter long stretch of the building, which housed the restaurant and the waiting rooms. 85 people lost their life, over 200 were injured. Amid the rubble, firefighters, traffic police, police forces, as well as ordinary citizens, dug desperately even with their bare hands in search of the buried bodies. An apocalypse of dust, screams and blood. In a country that has had its fair share of bombings, this is the one that has claimed the highest number of casualties.
41 years and 3 trials later, the families of the victims are still waiting to know the whole truth. What we do know is that the massacre was organised by the P2 masonic lodge with the blessing of the Italian Secret Services and carried out by fascists terrorists. But after all this time what kind of justice can be delivered when those who were convicted already walk free and those suspected of having ordered the massacre are dead? Still, the jigsaw is not complete, there are more secrets to be unearthed. The journey to justice must continue.
Bologna and its people won't forget. We can't, and nor do we want to. This is our wound, this is how we honour the memory of the victims and show our support to their families who have never stopped fighting for justice.
Le Lacrime della Giustizia (The Tears of Justice), Collettivo FX