Crónicas Pandémicas: The Corona Virus and I

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

and trepidation

to write about the present,

an exercise in the Be. Here. Now.

So volatile and impossible

possible now because, all of a sudden,

the present

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

bogged down

in collective anxiety and uncertainty.

Here we go, Corona Virus,

to battle, to rescue

the present.

(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,

back, curved,

I write

on the coffee table

under the window.)