A morning run; a promise kept. The world, in these silent times, is different. Resurgent, perhaps?
From within the dystopian world we live, I find myself dreaming of a better future.
More time passes in lockdown. I become all-too-familiar with the world around me. I break it up, where I can, with exercise.
Maintaing the spirit in Lockdown, a sense of cautions optimism is founf in the darkenss of the night.
Establishing the boundaries of our new lives we concentrate on what we can. Answers don't exist for the question we all ask: when will this end?
We've shut ourselves down. What does this mean? I try to keep my mind quiet, my anxiety at bay; pacified. I don't always win. None of us do.
In the silence of the empty life, the heart and mind yearn to find fulfilment. They know what they want, but they can only ask for what they know.
Not really much to say. It’s the weekend. A slow day. Not much going on.
A faded hope matches the mood of a dull morning commute.
I watch the quiet recharge, observing myself from a distance, even as I game. A weekend passes. I’m better for it.