I struggle to recall such a windy day in Milan, or maybe I have never had the time to pay attention to the sound the wind makes. This morning I felt it blowing over the roof tiles. Feeling astonished, I looked outside the closed window and there was an Italian flag on a balcony being whipped by the wind. However, the deafening silence and the empty streets tell me that it is still not over.

The window is shut, just like us inside our houses. Dreamers like us, who constantly chase freedom, feel enslaved. Quarantine is scary, the name itself evokes a sense of fear and anguish. The more time I spend in isolation, the more I want to escape from it. On the other hand, there is no need to break any rules to evade this prison. Our mind is free to go anywhere at anytime.

I put my “lattice hands” on the window glass to feel the temperature outside. I dream on playing sun rays like they were the keys of a piano which does not produce music but heat, connecting the entire world with the depth of my soul. I have always wanted to pack and run away to a desert island. Today I feel that I have finally got there and found a balance within it. Therefore, don’t anybody dare to disturb my quarantine.

Mask and gloves are like handcuffs without keys, representing an ephemeral liberty. A negligible weight to be sustained by the body but an unbearable burden for the soul. Objects allowing us to survive, yet making our lives unliveable. I realize that time, which, so far, I had considered to be only a mere axis in the space, is ticking out the same way both inside and outside these four walls I am in. I thought I could control it, but time does not care about where you are or what you are doing.

Being no obstacles able to halt it, time inexorably marches on along its trajectory toward infinity. I switch from quiet times when I count my breathes while enjoying sunshine, to moments of insanity where I would scream, though aware that nobody would hear me. I spend every single instant trying to catch the time not to make it flow away.

My spacetime dimension are the near-white walls of what I used to call home, but which I now refer as mum. Because it takes care of me, just like a mum looks after her own child. Neither this quarantine nor mask and gloves, which we are all forced to wear for our safety, are going to stop me. And I won’t let all these restrictions to drag myself down.

I have been given only one life and I don’t want to give that up. I strive to stick with my routine to show myself and everybody else that it is possible to achieve goals despite exceptionally unfavourable conditions.

I am trapped in a vicious circle of night time and daylight which continuously loops without showing any sign of change. A movie I watched few years ago comes to mind. I have not decided it myself, but I’ll adapt to all this. I always do the same things, attempting to improve every time, though I am also conscious that perfection is an unrealistic target.

Now that I have discovered this new dimension, I no longer wish to leave this isolated status. When it will be time to embrace “normality” once again, perhaps I’ll be missing it. And like smoke carried by the Milano wind, I’ll flow back through the currents of our frantic society. Nevertheless, I won’t forget the time of my life I had in my island.

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