I begin to think what's the point of putting on mascara plus I might not be able to get any more if I run out. Priorities. Another friend of ours has had to have a C test as he was working in a bar in Bondi where four customers were diagnosed. And there's the ship. Instead of the saying: Your ship has sailed, the new fear is that the ship has docked, potentially allowing 2,700 people into the community, 48 of which have now been diagnosed positive. I don't think Australia has realised the potential curve of this.
I struggle to go out. I feel listless, restless sleeps and I'm still not really out of the danger of having caught IT from my London flight. But I put on lipstick and concealer (a necessity as I've not been sleeping well) and head out being careful not to touch any door handles. I use my sleeve to open doors and then realise it can live on clothes for hours and then realise I've been reading too many articles.
I head out for a photo walk and realise that the route I've taken is sadly lacking. This brings the mood down as photography has been my saviour over the last few days. I walk according to the new rules, one kilometre from home, for one hour, alone and the only thing I feel joyous about is the street trees of varying coloured blossom: white, plum and the palest pink and then for some reason I look down and I'm standing in a cluster of fallen petals and realise how quickly the trees will change. A metaphor for how things did change with very little warning.
I painted a photo from my stay in Catania, Sicily last year and so feel at least productive (oh, the freedom we had then, taken for granted) but at least I feel productive. The daughter and her partner seem to always be sweeping so I'm housework free atm. I have taken over the putting out and taking off of the washing. We are starting to fall into our rolls.
Tonight we waited for eight o'clock but no one clapped. We were saddened and felt disconnected. That night I heard from my friend who went back and has symptoms - he's tested positive.
コメント