For the first time in eleven books, I’ve got a reduced desire to write.
The airwaves are so saturated with the war against the C-Virus and the inevitable casualties, that one feels quite exhausted when one walks away from the media outlets.
I’m as anxious as the next person about the pandemic but like most, we give ourselves a measure of control by disinfecting our house, washing our hands (copiously), observing social distances and being grateful for small mercies. To be honest, our lives haven’t changed that much apart from not being able to buy toilet paper, flour, rice and pasta. We’re not social butterflies and lead a family-oriented life and so far, in our state, we are still able to meet with our offspring and grandson. I prefer to think that this won’t change any time soon.