The blossom on the trees is like warm snow, cast against a misty blue sky, awash with light. Everywhere green threatens. Maybe it will overwhelm us by the time we finally step out of our caves and out of the shadowplay we have become.
Slowly the day settles, like coming down from a rush of blood. At first there is tension, biting at the edge of waking. It lays out all the upcoming hours, an calendar blow to the skull made heavy by the empty dates. What will I do today. In that void there stokes existential fear: will I catch Corona at 3pm? Is it safe to buy green bell peppers from the shop? Will I get bored? Is there something new for me to do?
Fully waking provides an end to this. I compartmentalise the dread, inevitably into my subconscious knowing that, when I sleep tonight it will play out. A puppet show dreaming of terrible things in strange shapes, all manipulated out of sight by an invisible yet familiar hand.
Tomorrow is Easter, beginning with Good Friday and ending in chocolate (no virus will stop the diabetes industry it seems). I fear - which might sound cruel - the consequences of a resurgent non-virulent Boris Johnson, should he rise on the third day. He will become (more) insufferable. Already dangerously nonchalant, his arrogant behaviour showed contempt for even basic non-pandemic hygiene standards. Never mind where it's landed him.
It won't matter to the swivel eyed that hang on his every word. The unquestioning mindless prole-drones that don't question even how we've ended up in lock down. Yet they'll chafe at it all the same.
No, they will look at him like Jesus Lazarus Johnson, taking up from his sick bed. An inspiration to us all! If he, a bona fide hero (a word drained of all meaning these days), can undertake the responsibility of PM while bravely not dying of a self inflicted virus he had a good chance of not dying from then there's no excuse for non privileged exploited workers to continue slaving for their state mandated pittance. Just don't look up at the cracks in the ceiling as the plaster of our economy crashes down around us. Clap for him! Pray for him!
Fuck no. The last thing I want to see is this idiot gurning and pretending thanks for the medical reosurces his stupidity have removed from those not dumb enough to make themselves ill while they fail to handle a pandemic, at least 4 months in the making.
Enough. Time for you to go Boris. Pick a method, just stop being PM and take your grotesque liars parade with you.
The blossom on the trees is like warm snow, cast against a misty blue sky, awash with light.
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