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 Two Hundred Sixty Five

I have been enjoying the sunrises lately, taking the time to watch as the sun creeps up the horizon, casting colours upon the clouds. The texture of the darkness and shadow changes from moment to moment, until they dissipate and the day is upon us.

Rarely have I allowed myself the time to just watch a sunrise as it happens. Certainly I noticed the awe inspiring pinks and reds marking the clouds while I was on my way to work before the grippe reborn arrived in these parts. But it was a glance and maybe a picture taken and nothing more. I never allowed myself to linger, to wait to see what might happen.

We have certainly been allowed a great deal more time for waiting and contemplation in these last long months. It is hard sometimes not to allow that introspection to fester, to let a cacophony of thoughts and anxieties and questions intrude and override everything else. Especially when our particular moment demands that we put constraints on our usual impulses to go out and do things. Those compulsions will always find expression somewhere, even if it is just in our thoughts and dreams.

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