A new kind of virus

The end of the tunnel was almost in sight.
Oh, it wasn't all rosy, a lot of things were still wrong. The 180-degree turn for the climate had barely begun, people were still ordering on Amazon, some were still aping nuclear power, and others still said they were ready to vote for Zemmour. In other words, there was still a lot to be done for mankind to regain a semblance of humanity.

However, we had the impression - if we closed our eyes hard enough to forget the conflicts on the other side of the world - that we would soon be able to touch the feeling of serenity. We were going to get out of this pandemic that has been eating away at our lives as Westerners for the past two years.

And then there's you. You who come with your big hooves and your tanks by thousands to invade our almost neighbour. Serenity takes a big blow in the face and goes elsewhere to let fear and compassion come. Confused and curiously complementary feelings, so sorry are we for our almost neighbours and so scared (unreasonably, we reassure ourselves) that you are even crazier than expected and that the idea crosses your mind to come and test your latest army on our doorstep.

The children are afraid, the adults are worried, the smiles are masked. Some even have reservations. Here we go again. The tunnel gets longer and longer until you can't see the end of it. It starts again.
Like a virus, we don't know what you have in store for us. Like a virus, we know what must become of you.