Then Gaia stopped. A group of dancers and actors played a fight between water and fire in the middle of Campo dei lupi. Its vast space was so crowded that Julia barely recognized it. The facades of the buildings were tinted in vertical stripes of gold and red, the air was misty of vapor and powder, the smell confused her and the noise deafened her. Gaia pulled her toward the dancers. Some were outstretched on the pavement, dressed in tunics smeared in blue color, their arms moving their tunics to the rhythm of the drums. Other dancers, their tunics, arms and faces red and yellow, danced above them. A voice of a singer raised barely above the drums and the clapping, some joined in and in a moment hundreds were singing together.
That is mum, Gaia said, could you tell?
Julia looked around but could not find where the voice came from. Not from one of the drummers, nor from the two xylophone players, the voice came from somewhere above them. Then she looked up and saw her on a terrace, dressed in an ample red and yellow vest, red stains on her hair, singing and rocking, her hands gesturing to the dancers. Gaia was looking at her, singing.
I would have never recognized her, Julia said loudly in Gaia’s ear. Let us wait for her here, then we’ll eat together.