Colloque Minérale (1960) by Leonor Fini
It was toward the close of the fifth or sixth month of our seclusion, while the pestilence raged most furiously around us, that I said:
This is the strangest time.
Each day feels different, like a series of rooms with sharp turns between them: We’re good, we’re fine, we’re holding up, we’re okay I guess, I don’t know…