Social distancing, fucking social distancing!

I´m ashamed of myself and, whether you are interested or not, I´m going to tell you why.

 

Guys who speak too loud 

“There´s no need to raise your voice here. You don´t have to convince anybody of anything, and you don´t have to attract anyone´s attention.”

Norwegian Wood

H Murakami

 

I also don't like those guys who talk too loud; they plonk under your window at any time and don´t care that the whole residential area listens to their conversation. I know one of those.

And I think then that it´s not that he lacks empathy, I mean my neighbour, but that he wants to attract attention and with his inflated spiel he is saying eh?, here I´m, listen to me, I'm the neighbour from the first D flat. I honestly deduce that these are small doses of complacency that he takes several times a day, seven days a week.

To cap it all off, his little sprog is following paternal paths, and he´s the child who roars the most in the yard from June to September, when the pool is active and from October to May when he´s waiting for it to be activated.

On the contrary, and as usually happens most of the time, the wife and mother — who has the right essence to be a saint — isn´t heard throughout the apartment block. Submissive, quiet and kind she seems to have chosen to compensate for the noise pollution emitted by her husband and son and assumes the vow of silence sworn by a Trappistine nun, supposing there are Trappistine nuns and they have to keep silent.

 

From my Borstal.

LDR

 

     Unduly harsh 

     Dear Fran,

 Plugged up. I have a mental block and I do not know how to get out of it. I have not been able to make a painting with which I feel satisfied for more than a month.

 

The tattooist of Auschwitz (VI)

The Tätowierer is moved to Block 31 and his job is to pile rocks from one place to another and then carry the same rocks back to where he picked them up. This is what a pal told me that he had to do when he joined the army! Only instead of stones, they were logs of wood. The idea is the same: keep the soldiers / prisoners busy, even if this requires chaining one stupidity after another.

Friendship. Chapter 21 is dedicated by the author to friends. Here you can see Cilka, Dana, Ivana, Leon ... and the affection they have between them and our partner.

At the same time, Lale push his luck again and barters diamonds for chocolate.

Living with the Romani reminds the Slovak of the relationship he had with his father. A relationship very similar to that of the oldest with children, the young and even the oldest women. Among the Romani of that death camp, Lale observes a certain emotional distancing, perhaps maintained by tradition, just as his father had with him.

We are already in chapter 23 and Heather Morris relates that a series of explosions take place in the Crematorium Four. What has caused them? Who? Word is spreading that the Russians are moving forward.

Is it true that the allies will finally liberate Auschwitz?

My dear friend, we already know from history that on January 27, 1945, Soviet troops entered that abominable place, but in order not to ruin the end of this interesting book, I am going to stop here. The remaining chapters (4), the epilogue, the postscript, and the additional information you will need to obtain on your own.

From my Borstal.

LDR

The tattooist of Auschwitz.- Morris, Heather.- Zaffre, London, 2018

 

The tattooist of Auschwitz (V) 

Chapter 15 is short and all of it is dedicated to the love affair of the two lovers. For a moment — after bribing the kapo of Block 29 — the couple abandon themselves to fate and make love as if there were no tomorrow. They don't mind being surprised by some soldier; they are so possessed by the burning desire to merge into one another that they ignore the slightest precautions. Do you know of those birds that sing and sing during heat and the hunter can reach the foot of the tree where they are perched without being seen?

 

The tattooist of Auschwitz (IV)

Herr Doktor Josef Mengele. It´s the first time that Lale Sokolov meets the Angel of Death. He came whistling and selecting 'patients' from the row that was getting tattooed.

 

The public gets what the public wants

The article has an illustration by Nathalie Lees where we can see a clown, with clear features of the Prime Minister, balancing on a huge viroid ball in the middle of a cemetery. I reckon it´s an image that perfectly synthesizes what many of us think about Boris Johson.