2020

As the whole world went into tailspin with the Corona Virus Pandemic, going into lockdown and self- distancing, we experienced a renaissance of sorts for the Individual. We went back to the basics, baking sourdough bread, growing our own food, switching off from the world as we worked from home and tender to family a d hearth in ways we never really did before.

People have been their most productive reinventing themselves and creating masterpieces.

Me, I couldn’t write. I was numb. I cooked, did gardening and housework, hid behind Netflix and went to the Clinic for soul-balm ( I volunteer at a vet clinic).

Mostly I looked after the zoo and cooked up a storm and tried to outpace my magic pantry.

Living in a bubble didn’t chage much for me since I already live in my own bubble, one that exists in my head, determining where I venture and what I actually do outside of head.

I barely wrote.

I let it be.

Just breathe. Just float. Just exist from one day to the next. Live. That’s all 2020 asked us to do: Live.

Preferable with Joy.

I tried.

Sorrow was not far behind Joy.