They say that more books were read during the confinement. Each one has lived (or is living) his Aeneid, his Iliad, his Divine Comedy, his Don Quixote, his Crime and punishment, his Regenta. At the worst of times, books sometimes nurture the hope of housing immortal men and women who look remarkably like us. Locked in the limits of the five senses, reading is a way of looking for a place to stay to spend time, the month, life. Even a territory of flight

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