Being an accounting of the recent and continuing pandemic and its various circumstances, from the perspective of an inhabitant of the regions lately called the Lost Quarter. Dates unknown.
Day Fifty Three
The days are long and hard. The work is good, I suppose. It distracts from all that is at hand, though I long for a moment of idleness and peace. That is what this quarantine seemed to promise, at least if one believes what one reads.
Instead I am trapped in my home, not by quarantine law (though of course it still stands) but by my correspondences and my writings. Proof enough that the world proceeds as ever, regardless of the dread lord’s incursions. The demands and deadlines are the same, it is just the context of it all that has shifted.
That would be worth some satisfaction if I weren’t so damned tired of it all.