Lamp Lit. Curtain Call. NKW, 2020
Is there anyway in which Self-Isolation is saving you?
#daythirteen
Today, I confused the rumble of our washing machine for the repetitive thump of the downstairs neighbours’ techno-social. Their behaviour has not changed much since the lockdown from what I can hear through the floorboards. Footsteps. Hammering. Techno. Techno. Footsteps. A scratching that I have to assume is a saw. My thoughts have created an ark. They never really went out before; I’ve only ever caught glimpses of an open door as they let the cat in or out, but my nosy mind still, somehow, wanders in.
Is this the time to breach a connection? Leave a toilet roll and a note to say hello, maybe. Oder, Hallo! Ich bin deine Nachbar. Sie faszinieren mich.
Maybe not.
Today, I was frustrated in between bouts of happiness. We walked and kissed in the sunshine, two by two. He sat at his desk, working remotely. I stood at the counter, cooking distractedly and swearing at the burnt rice. Hoping the pork stir-fry would still taste nice. We sat on the sofa, a model of Negron’s made our own, watching Netflix on a humble throne amidst stained pillows. We kissed. We sipped at ginger tea mixed with peppermint, shared toffee popcorn from a chipped bowl with legs perched atop one another, happily locked in. We cooed at polar bear cubs and monkeys, and professed true love for meerkats and honey badger cowed honey bees. The taste of chocolate on our tongues and weight of the day on faltering eyelids, we finally admit defeat; it is past midnight and, thus, the end of day thirteen.
#streamofconsciousnesswriting makes a burden a birthright, pain a playwright. Makes my anxious bones sing.
#covid_19diaries