Blonde Mafia Ganja Island

It seems as I have to come here to write posts like this more often I would like.
Still, I want to do it when the time is right. When I feel it's right for me and for the soul who I am putting words on the screen for.
God, how I don't want to come here and write posts like this.

Tonight happened the saddest thing in my Erasmus life. The saddest thing in the life of Jack.
After four days in coma, he died. Died with his parents here in Palermo, sitting by his bed in the hospital.
Palermo, the city of hopes and dreams for all of us. City of happiness and friends and laughter. And we never knew that for Jack these were the last days of his life.
He was hit by a car on Via Roma, near from my own apartment.

As I look over the rooftops I wonder if his mother and father hate this city right now. Will they always hate it. Or all they better than this? I wouldn't be. I would hate every single Italian for the rest of my life. I would only talk bad of them. I would practically attack every one driving a car. This city would make me want to vomit.
For my own mother this city left a great impression. She thinks Palermo is gorgeous, amazing, magnificent. Would it change if I died in here. Would she despise the rooftops I'm seeing right now?
Should I feel different? Should I hate the city I once loved? I know it sounds stupid. Even my own mom told me on the phone that bad things happen everywhere.
Well, Jack didn't die everywhere. He died on the street next to my apartment. And I can't help but to hate that street now. And the cars on it. And the people driving them.

First I cried for Jack. I cried for his short life. That he can never experience more things. That he can never enjoy this life he had. He was so young...
And all his friends waiting in England. What a shock it is for them. To send him away and then never get him back again. I cried because remembering even silly things like calling him Jack The Ripper make me sad. I wish I could do it again. Many times.

Now I can't hold my tears back because of his parents. In this strange city. In this city of old architecture and wet asphalt. How lonely do they feel. Without their son.
No mother should ever experience that. Saying goodbye to her son in a foreign hospital, while the son is in a coma.
No father should ever send his boy away to another country and then, without seeing him alive again, taking back his coffin.

My sadness, my sorrow, could I trade it for a better world?

I am so so so sorry Jack. I am so so so so sorry that nobody could do anything. I'm so sorry for your family. You know each and every one of us would change it if we could. In the morning it would be gone.
But it wont. We will get up and an icy hand will squeeze our hearts.

Rest in peace baby. You deserve it.

Like Peppe put it: "Jack, you'll never walk alone..."