Scampia, in Naples, is the district which is also known as the “Third World”, because, more than a district, it is a city in a city with an official population of 40,000 but which in fact numbers almost 80,000. People are crammed in all over the place, even under stairs or on landings. They live by their wits, and the most important thing for them is just to get to the end of the day. Day after day, without giving too much time to thought. In this place very little divides life from desperation. Over all reigns a feeling of abandonment and emptiness which must be filled somehow to avoid going mad. And this is how the Camorra emerges, the code of honour, just some drugs to make a bit of money or to get high. And not to be crushed by this formidable concrete jungle which is spreading far and wide, without a name, and which is looking on in silence, one has to choose quickly on whose side one wants to be. The inhabitants of Scampia know the score. They know they are different from other people. They are even different from the Neapolitans who live just a few kilometers away.
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