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       #Post#: 14--------------------------------------------------
       The first Spanish telephone line, by Rodrigo
   DIR By: kkshaha cnd
       Date: September 14, 2023, 6:47 am
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       We are going outwards, he said, with the hubbub of someone who
       leaves behind the screens, the innumerable links of the
       innumerable events that follow one another, indistinctly, in
       well-lit rooms, with careful staging, but essentially
       incommunicado. The sky opens, overwhelmingly blue, on the other
       side of the door, and the green falls in its infinite unusual
       tones on the branches of the oaks and the tips of the grass, on
       the generosity of the magnolias and the incessant climbing of
       the vines. Everything outside seems on the verge of being and
       not being, like faith.
       A miracle. Or an accident. Something both inevitable Phone
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       incredible. And we are going there,
       there is no doubt about it, determined, with a rapid pulse and a
       little labored breathing because, after all, The possibility of
       seeing people in person adds an unexpected, possibly
       unpredictable element to a daily routine that has become
       increasingly exact, merciless, static rituals.
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       What will it be like now to be out there, in public, in front of
       someone else's unheard-of body again? We are going there, yes,
       but what will it feel like? We ask ourselves in silence
       repeatedly and again, interrupting the ceremony, the act of
       leaving, and the answer, which is many and does not take long to
       arrive, produces the hesitation that He stops his foot and
       refuses to let go of the doorknob, turning his hand into another
       attachment to the doorknob, another finishing touch to the door.
       Everlasting statue.
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