From Dead to Dread

OK, so life is becoming weirder as the years go by. It can´t be me. It can´t be just me.

On this seemingly endless Summer, and facing the prospect of a whole day catching up with all the work undelivered and/or untransferred throughout the week, I wake up early and realise I need to reclaim some of that brisk, quiet morning air for myself. Sunday mornings have always been my favourite time of the week, anyway… no urgent phone calls, no traffic, no madness… just plenty of open mental space and a very catholic feeling of purity washing away any eventual excess from the night before. Old habits die hard, especially when inherited throughout the centuries.

So I bump into this new shopping mall, opened to much fanfare just a few days ago. A former factory, so the encrusted tiles claim and prove. I peek in, curious as I am as to how we are all going to revive the dead downtown area I myself inhabit.

It is dreadful. Beyond anything one can conceive, let alone accept.

Early morning on a bright Sunday, and the turbo sex is banging out of the speakers in techno form, crowds strolling in circles like the zombies we all seem to want to become. Poor us, this is just wrong – cheap architecture, amateurish design, awful typefaces, aggressive, claustrophobic environment – all loud, all disorienting, yet so amateurish, so second-rate, so old just as it is born.

And yet I proceed. Virus is indeed the term, we have fully entered the age of the invisible.

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