Confinement feels like an experience synonymous to shipwrecked, an occlusion from all things related to social aliveness. Like a tumble down this sudden rabbit hole filled with a little bit of sadness, mixed with the persistent echoes of what’s happening here? It’s those voluntary pangs of need that then force us out into a contaminated world of don’t touch me and keep your distance. I feel like a flounder ready to be filleted, yet it’s far from time for that. That’s when I start thinking about the ever so intended milestones of marriage and children, as my would be suitor is somewhere out there, in this gigantic pandemic, wading through the threat of pestilence and disease, just to one day get to me. This brings me solace in some way as my experience is like a fairytale gone rogue and I have no idea; how to honestly accept anything other than, ‘this will all be over soon’ for normalcy will return. That’s when the persistence of this silent bomb resurfaces on the days, that I fin