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.
Even on the days of rest, rest never comes. Life needs upkeep. And the kids wouldn’t let me rest, anyway.
I can’t look away. I can’t not see it. My mind won’t relax. I must tidy.
Not really much to say. It’s the weekend. A slow day. Not much going on.
In the war against time, our only ally is our slowly-faltering body. But in aiding the body, we can also aid the mind, building defences against both time, and our own lives.
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.
Travel. Before the journey, comes the preparation. A time spent in the canyons of the mind, circling at the mercy of doubt.
The silent journey to work, a time shared with anonymous companions that I see each day I take this transit. I wonder if any of them recognise me, or even notice their fellow passengers?