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I own a green coat

I own a green coat. It's not perfect, but it's mine and it does it's job just fine. I had to sew the pockets the first week I used it. They were ripped and all my belongins slipped out through the holes. I nearlly lost my wallet once. But since then it's been working smoothly. It's a quirky little coat. Once, in fashion, now... Not. Most of the times it would appear as an old green rag. Maybe that's the fault of it's faded color. I think it would be right to describe it as a forlorn  coat, at least by the looks of it. And every surface and situation it has been involved in. Ah, but at the end of the day I hang it up with infinite care. I put it on when September reaches its end, or a little bit far ahead, if it's a warm year. And I don't take it off until the end of May. It protects me from the cold, from the wind and from the rain. It would protect me against the snow if we were to have snow here. It has a detachable wool-like lining. I

We are, and will be, in quarantine

It must be day ten of the quarantine, now. It's sunny, warm, and the fresh air, alive , gusts in trough the open windows. The house breathes with it. It enjoys it's new set of lungs, away for the whole of winter. The city is an uncomfortable enviroment to be in, specially during a quarantine. There's no garden, no orchard or field were to watch the time pass by, but a solid pile-up of cement and paint, carefully sprinkled with windows, here and there, as a subtle mean to remind you of the world, resting affar in the distance. But we do what we can with what we have, and so life has no other choice but to proceed. And what exactly do we have? Let's see: A whole set of walls and a roof, perfectly designed to shelter us from the everlasting rain and our humid galician cold. We might be entering spring, but nights are still in need for a coat, and will be until June, at least. No more, no less, than six windows, were to lay down our elbows and watch the world go b