The plague is a blessing in disguise, or a curse. It’s not always clear. Could it be both? Is it real or a figment like most everything that relates to a place in the imaginary real world? Crowded solitude living out life in sordid moments. The line separating reality from fantasy is not so straight. Like playing solitaire in solitary confinement. A lonely game alone in isolation. Endless days in the hole. There’s no line or circle to differentiate fact from fiction. The virus has given too much time and freedom to wallow in ignorant bliss. Читать дальше...