Sometimes when I’m lying in bed I picture myself being filmed by an invisible camera, the frames flowing through it in real time to someone’s eyes.

Being watched is the closest thing to company after all

A post with Text.

Sign of the times.

I’d joined a group on facebook where people could exchange thoughts,feelings and experiences on the lock down we are all dealing with (well, unless you are Swedish or Chinese I guess).

It was not what I expected.

More to the point, it was not what I needed.

I guess I was hoping to find something to connect to, to feel that I’m not flying on my own trajectory away and above everyone else.

Of course I know I’m not alone. But knowing something without feeling it is a facsimile of life.

I guess I lost my hope somewhere between the tenth and thirteenth post displaying home-made bread and pastries.

I had a grotesque vision of people in their pajamas or tracksuits or whatever they are wearing at home throwing food at me while I was chained up in a moving conveyor belt.

Instagram-quality food too. Shiny looking. Or maybe all photos are like this nowadays? I wouldn’t know, I can’t even remember how old my phone is.

I could almost feel my immune system bailing out of sheer despair at my inability to find the willpower to cook anything that took more than five minutes preparation or more than 3 supermarket items.

So I guess it’s like this then – the pandemic as brochure.

I got back to listening to music. Tonight I’ll have a frozen pizza. The picture on the cover is good enough.