Window of contempt [for Small Audio Art]

The window was the only way out.
Well, living on the fourth floor, way out cannot be taken literally. Let’s say that the window was the only link I, we had to the world outside.
We watched lots of movies set during the second world war when I was little. I mean, not my family specifically, we all did, because that’s what the national TV programmed. Often, while watching those heroes sacrificing themselves and never in doubt, I wondered what would I have done, had I found myself surrounded by propaganda, by normalised madness and systematic violence. Would I have chosen the right side to fight for? Back then I did not have any doubt. Now, I am not so sure.
So, I was telling you about the window, our only link to the world outside during those days full of nothingness and of fear.
Amazing how fast we do get used to the impossible.
You know, when you read a dystopian novel and you are angry with the main character? You think “Bloody hell, do something! React! Fight! Challenge the power!”
It looks different when you are living inside. A dystopic world where people are secluded in their homes, the window the only opening to the world.
It was from my window on the fourth floor that I watched the world being paralysed. Deserted streets, silent cities, abandoned reality.
Do you remember the panic of the first total lockdown? As terror pervaded thoughts, when fear made us suspicious of the coughing neighbour.
Sorry, I’m rambling, I know, but every time I go back with my mind, I feel a pang of shame in my stomach.
I'm not talking about vaccines or anti-vaxxers, I'm not talking about conspiracy theories or alleged terror strategies. No, what I'm deeply ashamed of and can't forget or confess is a small gesture that, instead of giving me hope, instead of making me smile… it triggered a reaction that I do not recognise, and every time I think about it, I'm ashamed. But anyway, here it is.
I am at the window, the streets are empty, absolutely empty, empty-empty-empty as you cannot imagine, and the only sound is that of ambulances.
We are already in the fourth or the fifth week of total lockdown, with an absolute ban on leaving the house, long before any vaccine was developed, when masks were not yet available and the media showed nonstop images of hundreds of coffins lined up, of bodies buried with mechanical shovels, stories of people who went to the hospital for a cold and never came out again.
Yes, you remember. From my window, I see two figures approaching each other, a boy and a girl, little more than teenagers, they sneak towards each other, embrace and, to my horror, they kiss on the mouth. I tremble at the thought of their parents and grandparents who will be exposed to the virus, I tremble and get angry and judge and condemn. And today I can't think about it without being deeply, profoundly ashamed of myself. I should have cheered and applauded and smiled, instead, there I was, in my window, full of fear and contempt. And I am so sorry. So sorry.