A feeling very close to anticipation has riddled me throughout this period, irrespective of whatever I was going through. At some point it was the return to a normal, at another it was a vaccine, or even the worst I had ever seen. When a screen becomes your window and things happen so unexpectedly, it felt like a sane act to expect and anticipate, only to fail. What ended up happening is that I just anticipate the unknown only to be proven wrong on what will happen next. One long day – (loss of temporal demarcations-loss of spatial demarcations but also an attempt to tighten them) – one long night.  I like this poem to talk about the pandemic world. It is written by a Slovenian poet – Cicaran O’ Driscoll- 

Vulnerability has withdrawn

to hospitals, confessionals, bedrooms

It needs the nearness of death

helplessness, or at least a short term loss of dignity

It needs the uncomfortable silence of imposed intimacy

inebriation or stonedness

to betray words that

like a letter opener

rip open

the belly of daily life

and save that

which makes life seems real

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