The Emirati airlines are supposed to fly again the day after tomorrow. The number of cases seems to have stabilised all over western Europe. They say the old vaccine against tuberculosis might unexpectedly have some soothing effect in this pandemic as an early booster of an individual's immunity system. I remember the pus from the scar that remained open for months on my shoulder, and so does my husband. We may be safer than many Spanish, French and Italian people. As well do the Portuguese, who still did not manage to eradicate tuberculosis, even today.
I had headache and chills yesterday, although with only 37,0 degrees. I wait with some impatience for serologic tests to become available. But the probability that any of those sore throats or chills marked my low-symptom COVID-19 infection are scarce. These are rather the psychosomatic results of these three weeks of anxiety, inactivity and isolation.
There is a growing fissure right across Europe, between the West and the East. I knew it, I saw it opening, but still it surprises me how fast the work of decades, and millions in good money...
The most worrying fact, meanwhile, is that I'm still very far from reinventing my life. I have rather come deeper and deeper into darkness. Where is my library, my universities to come, my research? These three weeks marked such a thorough reset of my brain as I can hardly remember from any moment or circumstances in the past. So many things drifted away, partially with that Eastern Europe transformed in a new Jangada de Pedra. Am I still a European scholar?