Miriam 45 – Up until this unusual break invested our lives, everyone in their own field was an actor of something and the spectator of something else. The two sides of the same coin alternated, fitting together perfectly. Actors in our everyday life, in our work, in our moments of leisure. Spectators of what the daily stage of our city would offer, or the Tv or social media. Then, forty-five days ago, all of a sudden, we stopped “acting”, therefore being actors, and with it came a lack of audience, which at its best is now made up of the three, four members of our family. Now the proportion is off balance, and we are more spectators than actors: 45 days ago, the first episode of a new tv series aired, one that is written day by day, not without big twists. The main character of this new tv series that we are getting into is, perhaps despite himself, our prime minister, who is trying, the best that he can, to fight and to keep united a nation that, after a first moment of cohesion, has started to come apart, as usual. Next to him, various characters alternate: the comic ones, the tragic ones. As in the best of the Tv series, we wait for the new episode to come out, we imagine the plot, we make assumptions about the finale, and we look for spoilers on the internet. And we forget, but mostly our actors forget, that while the story goes on, the stage of this series is still since the 9th of March, and it is starting to fall apart.
Andrea 45 – The show must go home. Like all of us, after all. Or on Instagram, but let the professional entertainers carry it on. Tonight, I think and I write. These days I have sometimes played with words, sometimes with thoughts. Tonight, it’s the instinct who gets me going. For the first time in 45 days, the keyboard moves more at a galloping pace than at a trot. A flow of words coming from tired, regretful, dark, nervous thoughts. And from a patience that is failing: it is not the desire to go out, rather to see a planification, a method, and even to learn from this situation. But instead, the time that those who manage the res publica (without capital letters, because it belongs to all of us), or the public opinion, should spend figuring out the best way to come out of this situation, is becoming a political propaganda to carry out in the post Covid. It’s North against South, Naples against Milan, few infected against a lot of infected, my health system is better than your health system, southerners against northerners, the sun and the fog. I feel like we are back in the 80s, when the games between the Napoli of Maradona and the Milan of Gullit were represented by the network tv as the extreme version of national stereotypes. It’s been 40 years. And, during these 40 years, the most accelerated global revolution, the same revolution that allowed us to fly to one city to another every weekend, has cancelled distances for people, companies, goods, currency and communications. The same revolution that unified as much as to divide us because of a virus that we are transmitting to each other. A phenomenal contagion heritage of a globalization that ran more than Ben Johnson when he was found positive for doping at the Seoul Olympics of 1988. And yet, we are still watching a show worth of the Bagaglino hosted by Pippo Franco: baby bottle for all the new-borns of a global world that haven’t noticed that the level has already arrived. Maradona and Gullit, my dears, have already stopped playing. Do it too. And go back to work.