December in the desert, by Natàlia Cerezo

When Margarita (Leoz surname, one of the best writers there is today, it is inexplicable that there is no more talk) and I got off the plane and went to the Kuwait spring night, finally we can take off our mask. We have spent over twelve hours with a clutch, only briefly taking it off to eat and drink. In Kuwait there are hardly any infections, says Guillermo, the embassy’s consul who has picked us up at the airport. The country is closed tight. To enter we have needed a PCR, in addition to a special visa, download an app and fill out a lot of paperwork.

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