The blue sky without con­trails, but full of birds. Two buz­zards circle high up. Wood­peck­ers ham­mer­ing away at ash trees res­on­at­ing in high range. Swarms of spar­rows screech in the bushes. At sev­en in the morn­ing and nine in the even­ing, the melodi­ous song of a black­bird on the blos­som­ing cherry tree. And from one day to the next, a field of crick­ets.

A world at one with itself whose sounds and tones are clear­er than ever. At night, the black sky is full of twink­ling stars. The nat­ur­al world before our eyes: unbe­liev­ably beau­ti­ful; the retreat was pain­ful, like when you leave a love affair.

The vir­us sent us the har­bingers of an apo­ca­lypse, in the midst of it human suf­fer­ing, mer­ci­less and unequally dis­trib­uted.; And it gave us a vis­ion. The nat­ur­al world as it is, as it can be once it is not sub­ject to human stip­u­la­tions. It could be a nat­ur­al world in which we see anim­als without feel­ing guilty. One in which we are not wit­ness­ing their destruc­tion. A world in which the world can be, and humans in it.