blameless77
Well-Known Member
APRIL 1ST
Day 11 of lockdown.
The pubs have closed, along with most shops.
No airplanes pass; the odd helicopter can be heard in the distance.
People go out for exercise, or to carry out ‘key worker’ tasks.
The supermarkets, briefly empty of produce, have instituted
rationing, distanced queuing and priority hours for
the vulnerable and NHS workers.
The parks are full of people
getting their 1/2 hour
of government-prescribed exercise;
joggers sprint past, exhaling
and shedding drops of sweat;
children scoot past the closed playgrounds;
every water fountain is dry; every toilet barred.
The enemy is invisible and everywhere - it even fills the news.
Everyone’s having the same conversations.
Why is there no toilet paper or pasta in the shops?
The US is winning the death and infections chart - it, along with
Spain and Italy has long passed China.
Perhaps 30% of those who will die are moribund.
One scientist described coronavirus as ‘packing a year’s worth of risk into two weeks’.
An apparently healthy 13 year old boy died today in Brixton.
It feels like a lottery.
The world has gone mad for Zoom, and just as quickly tired of it.
Everyone is connected.
Everyone is alone.
The children are adapting to absent teachers.
Matilda says she misses structure. We must make some.
Ella is stressed about not reaching her potential.
It could be six months, or even nine, before things start to feel normal again.
A lot of people will die, but slowly and avoidably,
because of shortages and human imperfection.
Yoga types will say it is Mother Earth, cleansing herself…
until they lose someone they love.
Business types will make a killing.
And I? I’ll try and remember that this
is one moment in life…
and that the world still turns
and continues.
Day 11 of lockdown.
The pubs have closed, along with most shops.
No airplanes pass; the odd helicopter can be heard in the distance.
People go out for exercise, or to carry out ‘key worker’ tasks.
The supermarkets, briefly empty of produce, have instituted
rationing, distanced queuing and priority hours for
the vulnerable and NHS workers.
The parks are full of people
getting their 1/2 hour
of government-prescribed exercise;
joggers sprint past, exhaling
and shedding drops of sweat;
children scoot past the closed playgrounds;
every water fountain is dry; every toilet barred.
The enemy is invisible and everywhere - it even fills the news.
Everyone’s having the same conversations.
Why is there no toilet paper or pasta in the shops?
The US is winning the death and infections chart - it, along with
Spain and Italy has long passed China.
Perhaps 30% of those who will die are moribund.
One scientist described coronavirus as ‘packing a year’s worth of risk into two weeks’.
An apparently healthy 13 year old boy died today in Brixton.
It feels like a lottery.
The world has gone mad for Zoom, and just as quickly tired of it.
Everyone is connected.
Everyone is alone.
The children are adapting to absent teachers.
Matilda says she misses structure. We must make some.
Ella is stressed about not reaching her potential.
It could be six months, or even nine, before things start to feel normal again.
A lot of people will die, but slowly and avoidably,
because of shortages and human imperfection.
Yoga types will say it is Mother Earth, cleansing herself…
until they lose someone they love.
Business types will make a killing.
And I? I’ll try and remember that this
is one moment in life…
and that the world still turns
and continues.
