Notes on the Grippe

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 One Hundred One

Over the century mark and no end in sight. The days persist and so do I.

We are into summer truly, I now have tomatoes nearly as tall as I. The chard and spinach threaten to overtake everything.

Persistence does seem the order of the day. Waiting as well. For the defences we hope can turn aside the grippe reborn. For the jobs we hope will be there when they are finally erected. For the end of quarantine laws and the freedom to travel and go about our days free of protocols.

When the quarantine laws were first enacted, my love and I were due to travel to the eastern islands where her family still resides. (A strange thing: the islands are to the west of the Lost Quarter, yet we still refer to them as the east. All our reference points are still drawn from the old kingdoms that once ruled so much of the world, including the Lost Quarter). That long journey did not take place, fortunately for us or we would have been stranded far from our homes.

When will we have the chance to undertake such an adventure again? There are few roads out of the Lost Quarter, and they are forever changing. Those who know the ways are few, and how many will be left who want to traverse them after losing so much? It may be that for the foreseeable future we are stranded in place, our worlds of necessity becoming much smaller than they once were.

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