Pestilence

Try not to guess.

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…