It is so strange, that one already thinks that we will never return to normal. It is incredible that one day we will remember all this as a bad dream as a result of which we lost a year, at best, of our lives. At worst, one will have nothing to remember, or will have to settle for remembering the many who are gone. One listens to certain celebrities who deny the truth of this tragedy and unfortunately confirms the suspicions he had about its consistency. Suddenly one feels that for something they did not quite like them: that was it, that trait of high unconcern for others, that superiority that so many found funny, that supposed rebellion, were nothing more than lateral features of the central egoism that marks their carefree narcissistic life.
There is an abysmal distance between the optimist who feels that all this will happen one day, and that this tragedy, by comparison, may not be the greatest that humanity has experienced in its entire tortured life, and the selfish who thinks that the pandemic is a lie. product of a conspiracy against himself and his comfort. As if there were an army of doctors and politicians in cahoots against his freedom, determined to embitter his happy existence of spotlights and cameras, of parties and drinks, of companies that dance water for him.
The rest of us, those of us who lead the normal existence of cares, friends, struggles and defeats that life leads us to are apparently so stupid that we are not able to see that all this is an invention of some evil worthy of the movies that they they interpret, and we docilely resign ourselves to the curfews, confinements, restrictions, fish stocks, distancing, masking, washing hands, giving up bars, abandoning hugs and kisses that they want to decree.
We do not need these disbelieving social prophets who do not deserve these lines, nor this relief from a humble columnist willing to follow all the recommendations against the pandemic.
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