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You can no longer believe it, the message that the next few weeks will be decisive. It resonates with “No Future”.
There was a collective sigh of relief on Friday after one in the antidote isolation room – the third wave arrived, we heard on the news about the corona pandemic, which has been every day for a year. Finally! Some of the elderly among us have known people whose parents died from the Spanish flu. They were first relieved in the Covid crisis. It will be over soon!
Back then, at the end of World War I, there were also three waves of pandemics. Tens of millions of people around the world fell victim to it, relatively few in the spring, most in the fall of 1918. After the third wave, which was already flatter in 1919, the great death was almost over. The golden twenties, called “The Roaring Twenties” in English and “Années folles” in French, lurked like a ray of hope at the end of the tunnel of terror. Jazz, women’s suffrage, talkies, community housing and a democratic republic made life more beautiful. The possibility of the person drawing hope, at least until the next wave of depression.
