by Irene Bianchi

Very often, I’ve heard myself and others saying such things as: Yes, I’ve been robbed once again, but luckily I’m alive”, or: “Another train crash. Fortunately, no one was killed this time. Just a hundred people injured”. We’ve grown so used to these everyday tragedies, that they form part of our daily routine. “How many hooligans killed after last weekend soccer games? Don’t worry. Just a couple.” Isn’t this weird? Isn’t it pathological to accept these things as if they were absolutely normal? Bonfatti’s house is shot by strangers, and the episode gets less media ttention than Insaurralde´s romance with Jesica Cirio. I remember Rosario used to be called “the Argentine Chicago”. Have we gone back in time? I sometimes wonder if, at bottom, we think we deserve this state of affairs. Like those women ill treated by their partners, who can’t escape the situation they are in, we’re trapped by violence of all sorts and sizes. And -unless we wake up and react- it has come to stay