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 Forty One

The heat broke for a day or two, the weather pleasant and delightful, but it is returning in full force today. The morning was cool as I walked with my love but already the temperature is rising and soon the cool will be a distant memory. The sky is clear and bright, except for along the horizon where a haze of clouds sits that the sun will soon burn away.

My love and I have been feeling restless again, each in our own way. There is a feeling of helplessness that is hard to avoid as the quarantine stretches on and on. Everything feels in between, a moment waiting to happen that never arrives.

In response we talk of moving somewhere, starting life anew. The economy suffers here, as it does everywhere now, but there seems little chance of a return to old ways and prosperities. Worse, our leaders ostrich themselves and do nothing to build for the new world that we can all sense must be coming. This was true before the dread lord arrived and will only become more of a problem when he is gone and we must all pick up the pieces and move on.

But really what we want is something to grasp hold of, to be able to imagine a life after this limbo. To be able to do that is to believe that it will be over. Right now that seems beyond our imagination.

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