The thought at the time of the coronavirus However disgusting it could be, this morning a fly was humming in my room. It flew over my books, useless were my attempts to catch it. It flew over my head, the most I could was to hit my head in the useless effort to decrease the fly’s freedom. At last, that really annoying fly, whose humming … Continua a leggere The Fly
Today, at dawn, there is melancholy. Even the birds seem tired of singing and the sky appears to be free from the flight of the seagulls. The streets are empty, as it is convenient, and there is no noise in our sleeping houses. The moon is hiding, perhaps offended by the silence of the day; ” Mine is the silence!” it says, “Silence is mine!” … Continua a leggere Melancholy
Writing Is Testifying 