Shit my pants; freaking out; cracking up; and so on, and so forth.
That’s what disappearing from our sight toilet paper stands for; to clean up the mess generated automatically by people’s fear in the face of death, our old friend, as old as storytelling.
One should be sympathetic, compassionate, not to mention considerate towards other people’s fears, especially when we ‘re dealing with matters of life and death, or purely death in this case infected as it appears to be by a virus, yet another ancient co-traveler.
However, and not to disregard knowledge that springs by noticing the attitudes of our fellow earthlings, one shouldn’t neglect the fact that fear triggers aggression; and as for aggression, let’s say it’s served along with pain and injustice.
Let me be clear; I worked along with wolves, I fucked foxes and hyenas, I wasted my time talking to piggos, I had drinks with seducingly exotic migratory birds and I listened carefully, and eternally grateful, to wise owls – complete the list free at will.
And of course, if history teaches us anything at all is that in times of pandemics or wars humans tend to think mostly about survival, just like any other living species.
To survive at all costs means to simply care about oneself, to act against the interest of others.
Survival, at its purest form, antagonizes solidarity; the same way love knows nothing of social distance.
And yet, in the end, truth prevails.