Feed on


When we leave the house; we’ll have to start over.

We’ll have to invent the wheel.

We’ll have to crucify Christ.

We’ll have to be burned at the inquisition stake when we’ll state that the earth is round.

When we leave the house, we’ll get through the Renascence, so that later we could get through the Holocaust.

We’ll have to shoot Martin Luther King and John Lennon.

When we leave the house, we’ll have to keep Nelson Mandela in prison, in almost 30 years of quarantine, so that we can learn from him, forgiveness.

We’ll have to rebuild the Soviet Union so we can send us in Siberia.

We’ll have to come back to the Latin letters and, in time, read on children’s t-shirts, the countries that their parents are working in.

When we leave the house, we’ll have to learn to love and work like we know nothing else.

We’ll start to cut down forests because others did not leave their houses yet.

When we leave the house, we’ll learn to wash our hands, and the best at it will be the politicians.


We’ll learn to memorise the name of our first teacher by setting up her name as the answer to the security question for when retaking the password.

We’ll cross the streets like pedestrians in restricted areas, looking down, and protected by face masks.

We’ll continue to aim the gun at our temples but not to measure the temperature.

We’ll have to learn to become people. Free. We’ll have to learn to touch our loved ones more than the screen. And to help them.

And we’ll have to invent a new pandemic to prevent Liverpool from winning the title after such a long wait, like Mandela’s prison.

When we leave the houses, our children will be born, whom we’ll raise outdoor again.

And these children will have in front of their faces, not a mask but a book.

A book to protect them from repeating our numerous mistakes.

translated by Gabriel Colnic


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