The next day, I thought everything would be the same as the day before. I imagined that in the first part of the day, I would have a bath during which I could say a Rosary or a prayer for the world, or that afterward, I would prepare my liturgical vestments for a Mass with the Pope or Cesare. But no… It seems that what happened was not a nightmare, but reality.
I woke up on the bench where I had slept, just like dozens of others who had come as pilgrims for the sad events of the Church from other countries. I had never felt so exhausted in the morning as I did today. As soon as I woke up, I went to the main altar of the Basilica where I knelt to say a few prayers for the Pope's soul.
I felt a true disgust toward my own body. I could feel myself starting to smell because I hadn't yet taken a bath, and I felt like the last beggar in St. Peter's Square. Well, it seems I will have to ask someone to lend me their personal bath to get back to normal.
