Russian experts: sending flowers on March 8th will not spread the new crown virus

“March 8 Women’s Day” is coming soon. According to tradition, many men will present flowers to women during the festival to express festive congratulations. As the global new crown epidemic is still not optimistic, some people worry that flowers may be infected and spread the new crown virus. In this regard, Russian doctors said that flowers are unlikely to become a carrier for the spread of the new crown virus.

According to a report by RIA Novosti on the 4th, Russian virology expert Alitshtei said: “At present, we are still in the pandemic of the new crown epidemic, and there is always a risk of being infected. But in fact, there is no new crown virus that will pass. The possibility of a bouquet of flowers being spread is almost zero. Therefore, during the festival, giving flowers to women is not only no problem, but also necessary. It should be used to show respect for women.”

Russian infectious disease doctor Timakov also said that people do not have to be afraid of contracting the new crown virus in the flower shop. Although many flower shops themselves are not large in space, the door of the flower shop is often open and the air is unblocked, so people do not have to worry about being infected. Of course, people must comply with various health protection measures to be foolproof. For allergy sufferers, varieties such as tulips, lilies, and orchids are relatively safe, as they usually do not diffuse large amounts of pollen into the air.

Senor Emeterio and Sená Donisia had entered the gate when great and majestic voices were heard calling for the husband and wife. They went to the place where the voices started, for which they had to go through a passage that led to a narrow patizuelo; in it, a door with two steps, and through it they entered a small anteroom and then a wide room, with stained glass windows on one side and on the ceiling like a painter’s studio. This piece was guarded with few and oldp. 12 black walnut furniture; a carved chest, friar chairs, and on the back of one of them a chasuble, a table with Solomonic legs locked together by forged iron, a candle from Lucena, some pots from Talavera and Granada, a bed with a silk damask bedspread crimson, and in bed a skinny, bearded, gloomy man. At the first glance, this man offered himself as the most complete corporeal transcript of Don Quixote de la Mancha. Later, it was seen that he was by far more bearded than the old gentleman, because the current’s were cappuccino beards; on the other hand, Don Quixote’s aquiline nose had forgotten its hump when it passed to the new face, and, although projected, it was now more like an awl nose.

The gentleman was sitting on the bed, with a hunched leg and a very steep knee, acting as a desk, on which he supported a cardboard with a sheet held by four bugs. In his right hand he was holding a pencil. With his left hand, he took off the large round glasses, with tortoiseshell frames, and looked sternly at the couple. However, his eyes, whether out of sincerity or because of myopia, betrayed a great softness of feelings.

“Do you mean to tell me, Dionysia, what is the reason for the scandal you have stirred up on the stairs?” Don’t you know, woman, that I can’t work if there is noise? Do you want to force me to find new accommodation a hundred leagues from your disorderly shouting match? The gentleman spoke, in a tone similar to that of a young actor playing an archbishop’s role.

“By God, sir!” Asked Mr. Emeterio.

“By God, Don Alberto!” Sená Donisia begged with extreme and pained humility.

Husband and wife always approached Don Alberp. 13possessed of fearful devotion. They loved him as the dog loves man and man loves God, as a being half familiar and half mysterious.

Don Alberto del Monte-Valdés, like the Spaniards of yesteryear, had given the nervous years of his youth to adventures in the lands of New Spain, in whose discovery and conquest, according to Don Alberto, his ancestors had had a glorious part. He was approaching the middle of life’s path when he returned to the metropolis and fell into the village and court, wearing strange clothing and announcing the good news of a strange art. Passersby laughed at his trace; the literary leaders mocked his writings. Monte-Valdés, as if making himself strong in a bulwark, intoned life according to a pattern of pride, sharpness, and extravagance, which were the three angles of his defense against mockery, snares, and ambient routines. Some young writers followed and mimicked him. And to all this, the little money with which he had arrived in Madrid was on the verge of being used up. He could not get any article published in the newspapers, and if by chance some small magazine welcomed him, he would not pay for it, except in praise. Having reduced his flow to sixteen dollars wrongly counted, one day he walked aimlessly through the streets, considering what they would give of himself and the time it would take to earn another sixteen, when a crowd of tight people, at the foot of a half-built house , it attracted his attention. He elbowed his way through the onlookers and discovered in the center a livid, whining man, lying on the ground. Two people appeared to assist him and examine him. They brought a stretcher and placed the wounded man on it just as Monte-Valdés, arriving at the scene, questioned a He could not get any article published in the newspapers, and if by chance some small magazine welcomed him, he would not pay for it, except in praise. Having reduced his flow to sixteen dollars wrongly counted, one day he walked aimlessly through the streets, considering what they would give of himself and the time it would take to earn another sixteen, when a crowd of tight people, at the foot of a half-built house , it attracted his attention. He elbowed his way through the onlookers and discovered in the center a livid, whining man, lying on the ground. Two people appeared to assist him and examine him. They brought a stretcher and placed the wounded man on it just as Monte-Valdés, arriving at the scene, questioned a He could not get any article published in the newspapers, and if by chance some small magazine welcomed him, he would not pay for it, except in praise. Having reduced his flow to sixteen dollars wrongly counted, one day he walked aimlessly through the streets, considering what they would give of himself and the time it would take to earn another sixteen, when a crowd of tight people, at the foot of a half-built house , it attracted his attention. He elbowed his way through the onlookers and discovered in the center a livid, whining man, lying on the ground. Two people appeared to assist him and examine him. They brought a stretcher and placed the wounded man on it just as Monte-Valdés, arriving at the scene, questioned a Having reduced his flow to sixteen dollars wrongly counted, one day he walked aimlessly through the streets, considering what they would give of himself and the time it would take to earn another sixteen, when a crowd of tight people, at the foot of a half-built house , it attracted his attention. He elbowed his way through the onlookers and discovered in the center a livid, whining man, lying on the ground. Two people appeared to assist him and examine him. They brought a stretcher and placed the wounded man on it just as Monte-Valdés, arriving at the scene, questioned a Having reduced his flow to sixteen dollars wrongly counted, one day he walked aimlessly through the streets, considering what they would give of himself and the time it would take to earn another sixteen, when a crowd of tight people, at the foot of a half-built house , it attracted his attention. He elbowed his way through the onlookers and discovered in the center a livid, whining man, lying on the ground. Two people appeared to assist him and examine him. They brought a stretcher and placed the wounded man on it just as Monte-Valdés, arriving at the scene, questioned a it attracted his attention. He elbowed his way through the onlookers and discovered in the center a livid, whining man, lying on the ground. Two people appeared to assist him and examine him. They brought a stretcher and placed the wounded man on it just as Monte-Valdés, arriving at the scene, questioned a it attracted his attention. He elbowed his way through the onlookers and discovered in the center a livid, whining man, lying on the ground. Two people appeared to assist him and examine him. They brought a stretcher and placed the wounded man on it just as Monte-Valdés, arriving at the scene, questioned ap. 14 of those two people, who turned out to be a doctor:

“What has happened?”

Monte-Valdés, like Don Quixote, suspended the person who spoke for the first time, with an emotion between imposing and hilarious. The doctor examined the upstart slowly, shrugged, and replied detachedly:

-Nothing; you see it. A bricklayer who has fallen from the scaffold. Nothing.

“What do you mean nothing?” Monte-Valdes grumbled deafly, shaking beards and pincers.

The doctor examined the intruder again, wondering if he was crazy. And he spoke again, this time with courtesy:

—I say nothing precisely because of that, because this nothing means everything : it means that the man will be useless for his whole life, which, in short, will be well deserved, because they are beasts, who do not take care of anything; that, as long as he wasn’t drunk. And I say that it will be useless because the repair of the arm, which is where the break is, can only be done with an orthopedic device that will cost seventy-five pesetas, and since he does not have the seventy-five pesetas or whoever give them, then, nothing!

“And who has told you that he has no one to give them to him?” Monte-Valdes roared opaquely, flashing lightning from his eyes. Now the shaking of the pincers was so violent that he had to secure them to his nose with an insecure hand.

-Say; as you do not …

“Of course I give them.”

At this point a woman appeared who was hiccupping and moaning, leading by the hand a dark and skinny little girl. The doctor approached the woman, and, speaking a few words to her, the woman went to Monte-Valdés, and wanted to kiss her hands. The writer, with gesture and are evangelicals, said:

p. fifteen

—Woman, don’t cry, what I’m doing is not worth it. Take the fifteen dollars.

The woman wanted to know the name and address of her husband’s protector. Monte-Valdés resisted, but he had to give in at last.

A seamstress, carried away by that sentimental and burlesque instinct that is the whole soul of the humble-class Madrilenian women, shouted:

“Long live Don Quixote!”

And the witnesses of what happened, mostly from the lower town, chorus:

-Live!

Monte-Valdés, great enemy of the populace and despiser of their outbursts, fled with a slight beat of feet. The menestralas, who saw him from behind, with his long hair and strange hair, cried with laughter.

The injured bricklayer was Mr. Emeterio; the sobbing woman, Sená Donisia.

Alone now, Monte-Valdés counted the money he had left; four pesetas and twenty cents. He had rented a room and used to eat at affordable cafes and restaurants, only twice a week, because his sobriety was as sober as that of some famous Spaniards of other centuries. That is to say, his pecuniary means were not enough to provide him with sustenance for more than a week. He had no friends to turn to, nor, on the other hand, would he ever have bowed to asking for money.

He was trying to solve such an intricate problem when he happened to pass in front of the church of Góngoras. He entered the temple, sat down on a bench, and there, with his head bowed, his eyes narrowed, his nostrils dilated with the smell of incense, and slowly combing his beard with his fingers, he had a revelation. He left the church comforted and went to a bakery, where he bought bread for a month. Bread that was later kept softp. 16wrapping it in handkerchiefs, which he always kept moist, as sculptors do with their clay sketches. Before the end of the month, and with it the bread, Monte-Valdés placed two articles that he charged at five dollars each. Almost at the same time Emeterio, already recovered from the mishap, and the woman appeared. His gratitude and adherence to the knight were such that after returning from crying and giving thanks hundreds of times, the Dionysia spoke thus:

—Lord, we want to serve you, to always be with you and at your orders for the rest of our lives.

“It pleases me.” I cannot live except surrounded by servitude. ”And he began to comb his beard, a sign of reflection in him. But I must warn you that I am a poor gentleman.

“With you, even if it were to die of hunger,” Emeterio stated decisively. Better than with the Rochil!

-Be! Monte-Valdes concluded.

From this point began the mysteriously heroic epoch of Monte-Valdés’s life, the epoch of conquest: conquest of renown and, secondly, if it came in addition, conquest of well-being. And just as the lean Castile of the Emperor’s times, with hunger at home and misery, conquered the world fighting for faith, and as much as its guts were clenched its head was raised before the eyes of others, Monte-Valdés fought In his own way, for an ideal of art, and the more severe the scarcity at home, the more the bone stiffened and hardened, which did not bend it to anyone. Only among Spaniards is there the type of man who has made hunger compatible with pride and who does not debase poverty. It was not uncommon for Monte-Valdés to spend a few days without leaving the bed during that time of conquest,p. 17pawned the only suit he owned, so as not to starve himself and his servants. And if on such occasions a friend would bring a visit, Monte-Valdés would receive him in bed, with affable poise and a natural forgetfulness of the humble things around them, which seemed to be nothing but that the bed was a dais.

He was quarrelsome, because he considered that in adversity noble spirits were inflamed. One of his quarrels had to cost him a leg, his right, which he replaced with a wooden one. If he were to be believed, he was very happy about this accident, because it made him look like Lord Byron, who was also lame, although of different lameness.

“What hurts me,” he sometimes exclaimed, making a gesture of ironic consternation, “is feeling incapable of kicking the gallops of the letters and not being able to untangle wild colts,” the last thing that left the interlocutor somewhat perplexed.

After many harsh campaigns, fortune began to befriend him and success to flatter him. He was on the way to achieving what he had set out to do.

Senor Emeterio, who had left the job, and Sená Donisia, who had incurred in porterile necessities to be distracted, she said, had doggedly followed Monte-Valdés in all his adventures and participated, with a determined heart, in his privations. They felt, in addition to love, a certain reflected pride for their master: that boast of serving a good master, which is the true chain and visible sign of all servitudes. That is why they loved him as the dog loves man and man loves God, as a being half familiar and half mysterious.

“It’s just that, you see, senorito,” Sená Donisia began to explain, “a beggar sneaks into the portal, because he was probably a beggar.” You know thatp. 18the landlord does not want beggars. It is the same to say a thief or a beggar.

“Beggar, woman, and not beggar, as you have said four times.”

“Thief seems more to the case.” Well as I say, I go and I do not let him pass. Well, he starts calling me bullshit, and he goes and punches me in the belly; and na, which turns out to be Miss Rosa’s pimp.

Monte-Valdés combed his beards. Hearing Rosa’s name, he reached out and said:

“Enough, Dionysia.” Don’t let him hear you call a bad woman miss. I see that you cannot live in this house. And since I have been thinking about it for several days, you, Emeterio, are going to see the landlord today and tell him that I am moving soon. I myself will look for a new room, and you, if you want to continue serving me, accompany me; if they prefer the goal and the hazards that can come from a bad woman, they stay.

“But it’s just … sir,” Mr. Emeterio hesitated.

“I said enough.” Dionisia, bring hot water. I want to get dressed to the point.

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