I’ve been thinking about how we now view ourselves as part of this community or not, the familial gaze we share across grocery aisles, public spaces, and our house streets, all the while keeping a safe distance.
There are noises, but there’s something here that is almost terrible some evenings: the silence. Everyone stands and waits with hunched shoulders, faces furrowed above the eyes, waiting for some horrible crash or a miracle message from high above the sky. That’s what the silence is like. Today I wrote a letter. It made me realize it had only been four weeks. Four weeks someplace else at some other time, could be like a day. Here it is years. On a lighternote, I also just realized that my nails take four whole weeks to grow to a length that makes me want to cut them short again.
May 06, 2020