Campobasso railway station. Half past five on a weekday morning. Bleary-eyed clerk in her sixties on Facebook. Unlit filter cigarette hanging from her lips. “Due biglietti per L’Aquilla per favore.” Facebook abandoned. Filter cigarette removed from lips. Facial expression of being utterly stunned by lack of understanding. Mrs Henry and myself had traveled by trainContinue reading “Banksy does the Apennines”
