From a corner of the world in quarantine
It is weird for me to write about the present, focused as much as I was for many years in the past.
So, it’s a bit of fresh air, a wave of joy
to write about the present,
an exercise in the Be. Here. Now.
So volatile and impossible
possible now because, all of a sudden,
acquires another dimension:
The dimension of fear and the unknown
of the URGENT
of the constant danger of contamination
and confinement to tubes and hospitals.
Because we are in a pandemic time,
this Coronavirus that haunts us
that leaves us stranded in these shallow waters
in collective anxiety and uncertainty.
Here we go, Corona Virus,
to battle, to rescue
(Digo, sitting here in this grandmother’s armchair of postmodern and broken design, cracked and butchered leather, pieces of yellow foam hanging from the exposed wires,
sitting here anyway, dressed in black,
with a black turtleneck, folded in my typical pianistic posture,
on the coffee table
under the window.)