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“Quarantine Diaries,” by David Garyan (Day 32)

Quarantine Diaries – Day 32 April 15th, 2020

Trento, Italy


The days pass like warm winters in Alaska, but the weather no longer concerns us. Far from animals, we’re animals storing food during crises, which, unlike bad weather, come rarely— or maybe too often, only striking the less fortunate. Like nomads roaming the desert, at some point, the world’s rivers have all changed direction, but they’ve never reversed course. Always we’ve gone forward, with our possessions in hand, utterly alone— like empty cities that haven’t been deserted, like packed stadiums that haven’t felt victory in years. There’s no going back— we’re just letters with return addresses who’ve lost our homes. The lone streets at night are lit by smokers on balconies; the empty benches beg the rare walker to forget why they’re out. The stop signs have grown impatient waiting for people. Meanwhile, the shells on our backs are growing. We’re safe—hidden away. No one can touch us. We’ll simply go on hiding like this until the world finds a way to turn us around.


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