I wander around the big temple and its outside garden, observing the people around.
There, a family is having a little break; the father is chasing two toddlers laughing while the mother observes them from the shade of a tree. A boy and girl sit with their back resting on an old pillar and an open book on their legs. A closer look reveals their hands touching and their fingers gently interlaced.
I smile.
On the other side of the garden surrounding the temple, what looks like a class of students on a field trip is having fun.
This side of the garden is silent. I walk behind an old lady immersed in prayer before a small altar. I can't understand the words she is murmuring, but somehow, I know she's praying for the ones she loves.
I realize that I could be anywhere in the world.
Sure, on the surface, an Italian monastery is different from an Indian temple or a mosque.
We give the divine different names, represent it with different symbols, and pray using other words.
But we all love, play, laugh and care for each other.
In essence, we are all humans; everything else is just decoration.
Beneath that decoration, we are no different at all.
Yet, we get stuck in those appearances and forget our shared humanity.
I hope one day, we will all see that we truly are one.