I came upon this public billboard as we were scoping out the location of the Questura. That’s the place you need to go in order to submit your final application for your residence permit. When you are in possession of a valid one, you get charged less for utilities, you can buy a car, and you can stay as long as you want, no three months on and three months off sorta thing.
The day after making this photo we got together our portfolios and headed to the Questura in Massa. Even though we had a reservation (which seemed to assume each processing would take a maximum of 4 minutes—hah!), we found ourselves standing in a giant clot of foreigners, mostly Arabic and smoking like chimneys, just outside the door of the “Foreign Office” as they translated the name of the portal (I like it. It makes you feel important just before they make you feel very small and insignificant by taking your fingerprints three or four times, then smashing your palms against the glass of the machine as if the machine was designed to rip the prints right off you.)
Odd, too, was the fact that some of the people had reservation times like 8:45 am. Huh! The “Foreign Office” doesn’t open until 9am. Ever.
So anyway, I got to thinking how interesting it would be if there was truly no man who was illegal. We wouldn’t have to wait pressed up against a door with our papers. We’d be legal; residents of the world. Maybe it would be a mess. Like the wall. But a delicious and colorful mess. Like Italy. My home. Maybe. We’ll see in a couple of months. That’s how long they tell me it takes to process the paperwork.