25th November 2020

Full recovery from our present medical predicament would appear, by scientific opinion, to be still some eight or nine months hence.  That would make the full expanse of the health crisis some eighteen months, an age bordering upon the surreal.

Ten months into enforced isolation, this ongoing separation from acquaintances, friends, neighbors, the full plethora of humanity it was previously our joy and pleasure to share worldly experience with, begins to beg the question if the reconstitution of previous circumstances will ever be truly viable, imaginable, likely, real, conceivable, and if the miracle should happen will anyone have the mental capacity and social skills remaining to take full true advantage.

Will we ever again desire to ride the subway like a sardines in a can, walk a street amidst a crowd impossibly large, or has out vast universe now transformed to something permanently small, private and insular.

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