I’m so fed up with all of this.

Stay safe obsessively screamed from the rooftops, stop at the doorstep.

The evident fear of anyone you encounter in a supermarket aisle thinking ‘Does she/he have IT?!’ as they jump out of the way like a scaredy cat.

The silence in the mornings, only the chirping of birds.

Me loosing money, Chevrolet Darling snoring in the garage.

My mountain bike covered by a layer of dust.

Forced to stillness when I really needed to move, work, let all of it behind.

I’m no more capable to work out my grief without being up and about.

My quarantine started way before the official one.

In the second half of February my back went rigid for a week, I couldn’t even sit without feeling pain and it forced me to take a lot of Diclofenac that made me sleepy and incoherent.

After that my parents passed me the flu and oh boy wasn’t that sweet.

10 days of rest in bed while Covid started to spread in Lombardy right where my only 1-year old nephew is.

I didn’t have fever or cough but a nail cracked open my head worse than migraine.

A week after North Italy was basically quarantined and all normal life went to hell in a hand-basket.

The first week I really thought I was going mad.

The second week I wasn’t talking with anyone and reorganizing the space I found myself to live in maniacally.

Into the third week I constantly tried to not think while cleaning the numerous hard drives I stuffed full without having time to organize.

The fourth week looks like a bad dream, watching 1940s b/w films and documentaries way into the wee hours of the morning.

The fifth week is here and I’m starting to lose grip on time, this is worse than torture or inflicted pain. There is nothingness in every direction, even in my mind.

 

Let me be clear here.

The enemies here are psychosis, fear and hunger.

I already lost my Gran just before all this started.

I’m positive I’m going to hear about many others reaching the meadow at the end of the road.

We’re losing not only history but the very rocks, the foundations our lives were based on.

We will never be the same people, countries, cities again.

Still we are gonna rise.

I want to believe it.

I need to believe this despite my mourning is still in full blaze.

Grandma Flora would never forgive me if I start doubting.

In the meantime you play capitalism in its highest form…with nothing else to do.

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