Today I have to do the baths. I release a presumably implacable solution, with bleach, which Zabala de la Serna suggested to me. I find a strong link between poetry and disinfection . I think this while I review the photo that Vox's clothes have spread. The gimmicked (and stolen and rabid) image of the Gran Via covered in coffins. That prepolitical way of being in life lowering the bar of life. It is not yet 10 o'clock. The death toll from the fucking virus is increasing (734) and the abascales colo

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