TE19 Iberian Adventure

My Plague Diary

21 May

At each latitude-longitude: lukewarm temperance, relief or tension in a circle.

The commotion of the virus moves in a black cloud no one sees. A new colour in the world: transparent black cloud.

It moves. More to the north, south, east, west. In Lisbon, some of the fear is losing ground. But in Brazil, again, more than a thousand dead.

I receive messages from friends who are terrified.

A word that just sinks its whole weight into the ground.

Terrified with a terror that comes from the terra that no longer seems firma.

There are insults and insults – and in the middle there is news of surrenders and infections.

A friend in Rio tells the story. A son didn’t go to the hospital morgue to identity his father, for fear of contagion.

Somebody takes a photo of the face and he gives his confirmation with a screen in his hand.

The face is the face is the face of my father.

Yesterday’s diary.


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