Follow us on social networks:News saved in your profileThere is one thing I don't understand.I don't understand it no matter how many times I give it.I don't get it and it pisses me off.It's something about recycling bins.Let's see, in Barcelona, ​​there is a yellow one for containers and cans.There is a green one for glass bottles and jars.There is a blue one for paper and cardboard.There is a brown one for organic waste, and a gray one for general garbage.It seems very easy to use them.If one, for some reason, for example due to suffering from a supine bullshit, with peaks of idiocy and psychopathy, refuses to separate the garbage, he has the gray ones.We live in such an inclusive society for undiagnosed boobies and savages.As if that were not enough, the specific use of each container is indicated with words and drawings.The drawings have no mystery: they are diagrams as simple as traffic signs, interpretable even for an ape, for a paramecium, for an infusorium.Well: with this premise, why the hell one hundred percent of the times that I go to throw the garbage I find, inside each container, and especially the yellow and blue ones, a sea of ​​incongruous waste?Why, barely twenty meters from the blue container near my house, do I find myself, but glued to the gray container, that is, two parked cars away, a pile of cardboard lying on the ground?Why, since they changed the green containers and made the hole wider, do I notice that the bottles don't always break, but collide with soft bags, presumably full of plastics?Perhaps we are suffering from a terrifying epidemic of color blindness, as if we were living in a low-cost version of José Saramago's novel?I'm serious.Throwing away the rubbish takes away the little hope I have that humanity will manage to do something to stop the destruction of the planet.I equate the exercise of throwing the garbage with going swimming and tripping over plastics.One wonders about the history of that lost crap: who opened the wrapper, who swallowed the contents, who - with the utmost disinterest, without giving it any importance - let go of the waste with the placidity of the snake that lets go of dead skin."Who has done this?" Well, one wonders, like the mole in the story, the one who woke up with a shit on his head.So you throw away the garbage, yes, but you come home with a worse one hanging from your arm.Enjoy all the newsNews saved in your profileNews saved in your profileNews saved in your profileNews saved in your profile© The Opinion of Murcia, SA All rights reserved