Moving between my desk, my hob, my fridge, my bathroom, my balcony and my bed, I have felt my world constrict. I have cried because of the weight of it all; because of the people dying, because of the medical staff who don’t have enough PPE , because I so badly want to see my family. I have been angry: at myself for taking too much for granted before this pandemic; at politicians who can do no right, who let that breakfast meeting go ahead, who systematically stripped away our social safety net during austerity and can’t admit when they’re wrong. I have felt afraid because the economic repercussions of this are beyond most of our comprehension, and in case someone I know dies. And I am guilty because I am, so far, safe; because I have a home; because I have work; because I avoid FaceTime calls and shirk Zoom quiz invites and because, when all the other emotions have passed through me, I feel absurdly relieved in this crepuscular new normal which feels at once like the beginning and the end of an era.