The alarm is at 7:30 and not 6, but I don’t care. Sometimes I do math during Latin and Latin during Greek, so I don’t have too much to do in the afternoons, but I don’t care. The greatest aesthetic concern is limited to the area from the navel up, but I don’t care. I have a lot of free time, too much, but it doesn’t make sense now, I don’t care. Honestly, I’m starting to wonder if it’s normal that I don’t care.
I don’t care because I open the pc and after a sleepy “good morning” general, I have no pen dropped by some comrade to pick up.
I have no friends to argue with about your elbow going too far on my desk, or the 20 cents for Mars you still owe me. I have no windows to close, because there is always one that is too cold, or others to open, even in January, even with a penguin that nests under the desk. I have no teeth to clench at the screeching of chalk on the blackboard. I have none of this, so I don’t care about everything else. This was all important and I miss it damn.
While I brood nostalgically about everything I miss someone in the video lesson does not hear, and someone else does not go to Wi-Fi. So I think, I think about a lot of things, while the light from the screen dries my eyes, which is perhaps even better, because by dint of thinking I also feel a little bit crying.
Among other things, I think of my Greek teacher who defined this year as the year of “yet”. They are not there, yet I feel them. They are not there, yet I see them. I’m at home and not in class, yet, if I close my eyes and touch the wall, it’s not that different from school. The slate is digital, yet I always do badly in math. If I make a joke, others don’t hear me, yet I know, that a few kilometers away, a friend of mine thought the same and laughs with me. I did not understand immediately, yet, Professor, now I know that he is right. I don’t care about anything and yet I care about everything and I want to believe that whoever is deciding all this also matters.
Ilaria Camilletti, Liceo Classico M. Buratti, Viterbo
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