Pedro Almodóvar’s lockdown diary, part 1: the long journey to the night
I had refused to write till now. I didn’t want to leave written proof of the feelings that these first few days of isolation are provoking in me. Perhaps the reason is because the first thing that I’ve discovered is that the situation is not so different to my daily routine – I am used to living on my own and being in a state of alarm; a not so happy discovery. The first nine days I refused to make one note. But this morning there was a headline in the news that sounded more like one found in a magazine devoted to black humour: “Madrid’s ice rink becomes makeshift morgue”. It sounds like an Italian giallo but it’s happening in Madrid, it’s “One of the Sinister News Items of the Day”. (συνέχεια ΕΔΩ)
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