Voices of those who work every day, leaving home and loved ones - only to return (if and when they are allowed to do so) with the doubt of harming them. Small stories of an even more difficult quarantine, precisely because it is permeable.
My name is Mariana, I live in Sicily. In Augusta, known as the island of Palms, then the island within the island.
I have been living with Giuseppe for five years. I have wanted to marry him for a while, but given the times, I'm glad we didn't make plans.
He is a lawyer and for almost a month he worked from home no longer dressed as a penguin, that is, a jacket and tie, but in a suit.
As a child I dreamed that when I grew up I would be a surgeon and in reality then I became a pharmacist.
The first weeks of the lockdown I dreamed of the coronavirus.
He and I locked up in the pharmacy warehouse, obviously only he could see me.
Slowly I stopped. To dream it.
I always say that in my family we are collectors of experiences but we really lacked this one. In unsuspecting times, about two weeks before the lockdown, I had started re-reading the Promessi Sposi. Never a book was more appropriate with the time we are living. Same mistakes, same scenarios. Almost.
One thing I have missed the most during this time is the smell.
I mean the smell of people, those most dear to them. Because the mask and the plexiglass deny me. And the distance, above all. Who knows what effect it will have on me when I can feel it again. I do not know.
I know very little of what awaits us tomorrow, we just have to learn.
To have more patience and love for things and people.
To me, to my family, to everyone I wish to always keep us close. To hold on and not die now. Don't die alone.
