Miriam 25– Dear Andre, today I got out for the first time to go to the pharmacy. And this information, that would be a stupid and insignificant update in any other historical moment, now takes on a whole new meaning.
As it takes on a whole new meaning the route I made on foot, which is the same I’ve been doing for years now, twice a day, to take the kids to school and then back home. A route that I’ve always done absentmindedly, maybe with my eyes on the phone or intent on talking with my children, to repeat the morning lessons or to talk about how the day went. The same old walk, the same old light of an any April, the same old warm sun, the same old smell of grass, and asphalt, and the sea waiting beyond the pit. But this time I enjoyed the walk, I silenced my phone, I took a deep breath (medical mask permitting).
I looked at everything thoroughly, I stock up on colours, lights, images, smells. I filled up my head with small fragments of life.
And, on the way back home, a sweet sense of melancholy pierced my heart, like when you say goodbye to the person you love before leaving for a long journey, with a one-way ticket in your hand.
Andrea 25– I, on the other hand, cycled. I had to, because today I was getting stuck: in my thoughts, projects, relationships. I cycled because I needed to run. To me, running is a metaphor for life and when I run, I feel fine because I feel I am progressing, quickly, adding meters, stages and knowledge to my journey, and my life. So I cycled for 16 km, in my living room. I put my gym bag next to the mat, I changed my clothes, put on the headphones and got into the saddle. I turned the music , and I closed my eyes: I relived my running. I saw the Parco del Valentino in Turin and the last hill of a half marathon I did three years ago. I saw the Mentone sea and the after run dive with my friend Gabriele, I saw Napoli’s promenade and the 10 km run among the crowd of a hot 26th of December of a time I can’t remember. I saw the straightaway of Capodimonte, and a run with my brother an August morning of two years ago. I felt Los Roques mud, from a ten years ago trip to Venezuela. I saw, again, the night lights of Parco Sempione, in Milan, during a 5km charity run organized by some friends. I felt the asphalt of a side of the Ipanema Playa in Rio, and I heard Alessandro’s voice, with a Sicilian accent, during an unlucky World Cup in 2014. And, while running, I was listening in a loop to a Jovanotti song, who has rightfully entered, from tonight, in my playlist “Running”: W la libertà. (W Freedom)