COVID-19 diary 22/3/20

A man makes his way along the front at St Leonards-on-Sea, walking like a sailor, or a bear.

Solitary figures walking, or some walking together, trying to shield themselves from the stiff easterly breeze and from the glitter coming in off the sea.

Two young men with dark beards and dark glasses, hoods up, one stopping to take a photo of the other with his phone.

We walked on the moon. That was a long time ago.

An ADHD spaniel breaks free from its owner, darts hither and thither with no apparent purpose. Another small dog sees and approaches it eagerly, but is shunned by the spaniel, which races onto the shingle, then back to the walkway, runs to investigate a scent by the benches, but gives this no time and is away once more.

A friend writes: I feel quite euphoric about the whole debacle, and increasingly find I share these feelings with others. So many aspects of consumer capital which I despise have been swept away overnight, and for the foreseeable future; I'm hoping this experience will change societies and economies permanently.

Two serious exercisers, totally absorbed, run past me, one a couple of seconds behind the other.

Someone in a tartan coat and woolly hat, surrounded by bundles (homeless?) sits upright on the shingle in the lee of the groyne, cross-legged in the lotus position, apparently meditating.


Ec-stasis, that is

Standing outside

Standing outside of yourself.


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