Pills of OUR history (12). Let go of any form of victimhood, and for this time, no jests: to remember this day when Carlo Giuliani was killed, we must not forget that the term "boy" has been and still is a blatant misrepresentation. I do not know exactly what Carlo thought, and I care little, but I KNOW that he was not just a boy. I know that with his death, the abuses and tortures at the G8 in Genoa stifled, as usual, a movement that, despite all its contradictions, was growing and genuinely scaring someone. I don’t even want to talk about how many key figures from those years have recycled themselves. Carlo fought and was killed: that is what should concern (us). There is little to shout about infiltrators, black blocs, and violent acts against the peaceful march, to which Carlo belonged, as always claimed by those who want to justify his act of rebellion (even through documentaries, as if there was a need to justify it). Since that day, there has been no limit to the worst of cowardice, infamy, and heavy-handedness in the struggle. Today, instead of collecting his fire extinguisher, all we do is mourn his death, the death of "a boy": a word that does not represent anything of what his act stood for those days. I was not him and I do not know what he would think about the events that transpired if he were alive, but knowing that the revolution is not made with a fire extinguisher, I believe we owe him something more. Carlo was our companion because that is how he lived his last moments. Not all boys have carried on a struggle like he did to its extreme consequences, and in these days of deceptive, relative social peace in which we are entangled, this is more evident than ever.
