March 22nd, 2020: Day 6 of my Absolute, Now-Government-Mandated Quarantine//Day 12 of my School’s Earlier, Precautionary One.
Photography by Ami J. Sanghvi
This morning, it finally happened.
I woke up, and the first thing I did was sigh.
The day ahead was daunting even before I opened my eyes. There was this overwhelming sentiment of having nothing much to look forward to but more work, more homework, and perhaps even the carrot pureeing I plan to do later this afternoon.
There is, of course, the poetry, and the paint, and the video-chat I have scheduled for tonight…
But that all seems far away…
So far away…
Too far away…
I didn’t know what to do, so I washed my hair, put on a pink shirt, bought a grappling dummy off the Internet, made a rather large cup of coffee, and wrote. I find I am haunted by the dream I had last night — one based in this very specific and elusive kind of magic I somehow found in the quarantine.
But, it wasn’t real.
COVID-19, however, is. It’s very fucking real.
Too fucking real.
Thus, I’ll stay inside, and I’ll bide the time, simply daring to dream of better days.