Affinity: In the desert, hell
Life can be a parody of itself or simply a choice. When banality creeps into the guts, horror is always at hand, lurking, to make everything seem normal. If we were to think of the world today, in addition to the ongoing massacre of war and the genocide of consciences in the last two and a half years in the age of contagion, we could, without euphemism, think of the desert. In the desert, everything tends towards the identical, and the most distressing thing is that one never sees the end of it, even when thirsty for oases of shelter.
On the night of 3 June, an entire section of the prison of Cremona goes up in revolt. That place catches fire, the cages are one with black smoke. A few days earlier a prisoner attempted to strangle a screw. The revolt is put down in a great hurry also by cops and firefighters who’d rushed to protect authority, i.e., the segregation of those bodies. About eighty prisoners are evacuated. Who knows how long that section will remain unusable.
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