Greetings from life in the epicenter.

Horizontal rain scrapped the usual morning outings; a requisite run (Covid 15 be damned) and (Max’s preferred) dog walk. So I spent some quiet time in. A thought. That I’m still thinking about now; self-isolation is my 2020 version of India 2011. The perceived constant threat of danger and foreignness pervade the everything.

Quite literally, going out is necessary and often thrilling, but also a constant threat to health.

All of the time in the world for meals is exciting! Aloo gobi, marsala chai, jalfrezi, naan galore / oven roasted chickens, homemade cookies, tarts, loaves, oh my – until three weeks later it’s not – more… fucking… curry…  / i…just…want…sushi….

Nights are spent in, always, biding time with an overly thoughtful dinner and mediocre at best booze – Kingfisher (really!?)  / carbonic [insert esoteric grape here] from the local. Drink local!

New landscapes – Bangalore, Kerala, Goa, Mumbai, Rajasthan -ahhh Udaipur- Agra, Varanasi / D-T-B-K! And a plethora of new world views.

Days are long, but zoom by. The unknown woefully, and occasionally optimistically, forces a hard look in. So much noise amidst deafening silence of an unrecognized tongue allow these existential thoughts to manifest. What are we doing here?

Strange times indeed.

What is going on? And how do we get out?