Neither the screams in the plenary meeting of the Congress, nor the military drums could make the noise that we most strive to hear in my building: the rumble of an uproot elevator. Last Thursday, after eight long months, he worked again. What a small thing in the midst of corruption scandals, which is trivial, while the world political council is dangerously exciting. But how important at the same time for everyday life, I tell myself every time I tighten the call button. And, probably, there is a problem that we ignore what our everyday life holds.
232 days passed when we climbed and pulsed my child’s cart, my eldest son and shopping bags. But all that is in comparison with the fact that my neighbor lived in the second that goes in a wheelchair. For her, the collapse of the elevator was not just discomfort: it was forced paralysis. The staircase became an impassable border with the outside world, and their life ceased on October 29, 2024 with the same sharpness with which ours only turned uphill.
