What’s To Come—-

The acclaimed Italian novelist Francesca Melandri, who has been under lockdown in Rome for almost three weeks due to the Covid-19 outbreak, has written a letter to fellow Europeans “from your future”, laying out the range of emotions people are likely to go through over the coming weeks.

I am writing to you from Italy, which means I am writing from your future. We are now where you will be in a few days. The epidemic’s charts show us all entwined in a parallel dance.

We are but a few steps ahead of you in the path of time, just like Wuhan was a few weeks ahead of us. We watch you as you behave just as we did. You hold the same arguments we did until a short time ago, between those who still say “it’s only the flu, why all the fuss?” and those who have already understood.

As we watch you from here, from your future, we know that many of you, as you were told to lock yourselves up into your homes, quoted Orwell, some even Hobbes. But soon you’ll be too busy for that.

First of all, you’ll eat. Not just because it will be one of the few last things that you can still do.

You’ll find dozens of social networking groups with tutorials on how to spend your free time in fruitful ways. You will join them all, then ignore them completely after a few days.

You’ll pull apocalyptic literature out of your bookshelves, but will soon find you don’t really feel like reading any of it.

You’ll eat again. You will not sleep well. You will ask yourselves what is happening to democracy.
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You’ll have an unstoppable online social life – on Messenger, WhatsApp, Skype, Zoom…

You will miss your adult children like you never have before; the realisation that you have no idea when you will ever see them again will hit you like a punch in the chest.

Old resentments and falling-outs will seem irrelevant. You will call people you had sworn never to talk to ever again, so as to ask them: “How are you doing?” Many women will be beaten in their homes.

You will wonder what is happening to all those who can’t stay at home because they don’t have one. You will feel vulnerable when going out shopping in the deserted streets, especially if you are a woman. You will ask yourselves if this is how societies collapse. Does it really happen so fast? You’ll block out these thoughts and when you get back home you’ll eat again.

You will put on weight. You’ll look for online fitness training.

You’ll laugh. You’ll laugh a lot. You’ll flaunt a gallows humour you never had before. Even people who’ve always taken everything dead seriously will contemplate the absurdity of life, of the universe and of it all.

You will make appointments in the supermarket queues with your friends and lovers, so as to briefly see them in person, all the while abiding by the social distancing rules.

You will count all the things you do not need.

The true nature of the people around you will be revealed with total clarity. You will have confirmation and surprises.

Literati who had been omnipresent in the news will disappear, their opinions suddenly irrelevant; some will take refuge in rationalisations which will be so totally lacking in empathy that people will stop listening to them. People whom you had overlooked, instead, will turn out to be reassuring, generous, reliable, pragmatic and clairvoyant.

Those who invite you to see all this mess as an opportunity for planetary renewal will help you to put things in a larger perspective. You will also find them terribly annoying: nice, the planet is breathing better because of the halved CO2 emissions, but how will you pay your bills next month?

You will not understand if witnessing the birth of a new world is more a grandiose or a miserable affair.

You will play music from your windows and lawns. When you saw us singing opera from our balconies, you thought “ah, those Italians”. But we know you will sing uplifting songs to each other too. And when you blast I Will Survive from your windows, we’ll watch you and nod just like the people of Wuhan, who sung from their windows in February, nodded while watching us.

Many of you will fall asleep vowing that the very first thing you’ll do as soon as lockdown is over is file for divorce.

Many children will be conceived.

Your children will be schooled online. They’ll be horrible nuisances; they’ll give you joy.

Elderly people will disobey you like rowdy teenagers: you’ll have to fight with them in order to forbid them from going out, to get infected and die.

You will try not to think about the lonely deaths inside the ICU.

You’ll want to cover with rose petals all medical workers’ steps.

You will be told that society is united in a communal effort, that you are all in the same boat. It will be true. This experience will change for good how you perceive yourself as an individual part of a larger whole.

Class, however, will make all the difference. Being locked up in a house with a pretty garden or in an overcrowded housing project will not be the same. Nor is being able to keep on working from home or seeing your job disappear. That boat in which you’ll be sailing in order to defeat the epidemic will not look the same to everyone nor is it actually the same for everyone: it never was.

At some point, you will realise it’s tough. You will be afraid. You will share your fear with your dear ones, or you will keep it to yourselves so as not to burden them with it too.

You will eat again.

We’re in Italy, and this is what we know about your future. But it’s just small-scale fortune-telling. We are very low-key seers.

If we turn our gaze to the more distant future, the future which is unknown both to you and to us too, we can only tell you this: when all of this is over, the world won’t be the same.

© Francesca Melandri 2020



About Daniel Kemp

Daniel Kemp is a seventy-four-year-old member of The Society of Authors. He is also a bestselling writer. He writes stories that appeal to those who like challenging themselves to solve mysteries that are set out before their eyes. His introduction to the world of espionage and mystery happened at an early age when his father was employed by the War Office in Whitehall, London, at the end of WWII. However, it wasn’t until after his father died that he showed any interest in anything other than himself! On leaving academia he took on many roles in his working life: a London police officer, mini-cab business owner, pub tenant and licensed London taxi driver, but never did he plan to become a writer. Nevertheless, after a road traffic incident left him suffering from PTSD and effectively—out of paid work for four years, he wrote and self-published his first novel —The Desolate Garden. Within three months of publication, that book was under a paid option to become a $30 million film. The option lasted for six years until distribution became an insurmountable problem for the production company. All ten of his novels are now published by Next Chapter Publishing Company which has added an edition titled The Heirs And Descendants Collection, which holds all four books of that series, alongside an edition titled The Lies And Consequences Collection which contains all four volumes of that series. He is the recipient of rave reviews from a prestigious Manhattan publication and described as—the new Graham Green—by a highly placed executive of Waterstones Books, for whom he did a countrywide tour of book signing events. He has also appeared on 'live' television in the UK publicising his first novel. He likes to write quotes and it's on Goodreads where you can find them--- https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/list/72612151 An example of these quotes opens his novel--Once I Was A Soldier:--There is no morality to be found in evil. But to recognise that which is truly evil one must forget the rules of morality. Less
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18 Responses to What’s To Come—-

  1. Onisha Ellis says:

    The world has a reset moment. I hope the world will be kinder, more grateful.

  2. Reblogged this on Stevie Turner and commented:
    Yes, some of this is indeed true. Stuck at home, I do miss my adult children and grandchildren. However, on another tack I don’t feel the need to eat more than I usually do, as I only shop once a week and need to make it last so that I don’t have to go to a supermarket more often than I have to. I have a garden to get out in , and country lanes to walk in which are devoid of people, and so I guess I’m luckier than most.

    Gallows humour is rife on the Internet, and some of it is very funny. You have to have a laugh!

    The TV has blanket coverage of Coronavirus updates, and I watch only the 5pm daily update. There is only so much depressing news you can take, and to constantly be bombarded with increasing numbers of deaths and infections is not good for our mental health.

    Sam is still working, but I cannot go to work at the moment and I cannot work from home. We are getting by. We won’t divorce, as we’re very similar in nature and he’s quite a nice guy to be stuck at home with! Friends are ringing me up more often, the family call on Skype, and there is nothing else to do but to write, ride it out, and wait for Cyrus the Virus to be done with us.

  3. Daniel Kemp says:

    Cyrus the Virus; I like that. Good luck with all that you’re doing and keep yourselves well, Stevie Turner. 🙂

  4. franklparker says:

    Reblogged this on Frank Parker's author site and commented:
    In place of my own musings this Monday I am reblogging some musings from an Italian writer predicting the future for us in the UK, Ireland and the USA, based on his experience of the past 3 weeks.

  5. franklparker says:

    Reblogged on my site in place of the usual “Monday Musing” (a day ahead).

  6. Rebecca Bryn says:

    Wise words well written. We are feeling some of this already, but I’m finding it hard to eat, never mind sleep. I do worry about my children and grandchildren so far away, and my husband who has health issues. I feel sorry for people shut in with no gardens or in cities with no greenery. I count myself lucky to have space around me which once felt restrictive, but now is a lifeline. Our priorities change. I hope that the world will learn important lessons from this.

  7. Darlene says:

    Thanks. This is so well put. It pretty well says it all. I like the part about those considering filing divorce, and I’m sure that is the case in some instances, but I also believe that couples who have drifted apart will become closer. I am concerned for the children who come from abusive families, as being stuck in the same place together may cause further abuse. No grandparents, friends, neighbours etc to intervene. No one says much about the homeless these days. Sigh.

  8. Daniel Kemp says:

    Thank you, Frank. 🙂

  9. Daniel Kemp says:

    I’m with you on your request for better understanding throughout the world, Rebecca.

  10. Daniel Kemp says:

    Thank you, Darlene

  11. Mick Canning says:

    Yes, much of that. I do hope we may come out of this with a slightly healthier understanding of what is really important.

  12. Daniel Kemp says:

    Amen to that, Mick!

  13. dgkaye says:

    There’s just so much in this. And in the end, no, the world will never be the same. Great share. Stay safe Danny 🙂

  14. Thanks for sharing this, Danny. An interesting analysis.

  15. Daniel Kemp says:

    I thought it to be a very useful observation.

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