Hthere are little things, details that can destroy the image one has of someone and define their figure forever.
I remember an evening at the home of a well-known philosopher and writer where they gave me for dinner a plate of bitter olives and a plate of bits of dried meat, all washed down with a sour wine, the bottle of which had been open for weeks, if not months. From that moment, when I see his name printed somewhere, the vinegary taste of the wine comes to mind, the gray color of the pieces of meat from unknown origin, the tired appearance of the olives.
In the same way, when I read that the Prime Minister of Israel, Benjamin Netanyahu, and his wife carried suitcases of dirty sheets every time they traveled abroad to have them washed in the chancelleries and residences where they were housed, I live completely obsessed by the news and I can not help wondering what kind of person takes laundry bags to other countries to take advantage of the fact that it is free. If you do that, what will you not do with the Palestinians in the Gaza Strip? What will you not do to avoid taxes or be prone to all the corruption and bribes that they offer you?
There are trifles in the behavior of many people that totally portray it.
Another example (okay, I admit, it is by the hair): Tom Cruise’s thongs. To shoot his action scenes in the successive and endless impossible missions, the actor demands from the wardrobe people collections and collections of different thongs that he proceeds to try on in order to see what kind of ass they make him under his pants and how it looks in front of the camera. Taking into account that the thong from behind is only a thread that gets between the two cheeks –that is, it cannot be seen–, I am not able to understand why you need to try on more than 80 different thongs, as the costume managers have revealed of Mission Impossible I don’t know how many.
I confess that lately I live worried about these seemingly banal things: the stinginess of a philosopher, the dirty sheets of a politician, the obsession with the thong of a Hollywood actor.
It’s as if my brain can’t deal with really important things and can only pay attention to the trifles. It is the human stupidity that makes us philosophize in the abstract about being and nothingness while giving our guests bread the day before yesterday.
I would like to express my terror at the coronavirus, precariousness, climate change, the dictatorship of social networks, the collapse of democracy, the social setbacks shielded by the economic crisis, latent racism in all nationalisms and populisms, etc. , but my reptilian brain is filled with images of dirty socks, hanging from an infinite rope from which dozens and dozens of thongs hang, each tacky and ridiculous.
Anything can happen. All are signs that the perfect storm is coming.
The perfect Storm / Isabel Coixet, XLSemanal (Spain), October 16