They are beautiful, heart-rendingly beautiful, those summer days, with a quality of weightless, lofty, soul-bearing freedom that my sagging, stifled quarantined days no longer possess.
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Stagnant dusk had deepened into suffocating darkness.
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The brittle boredom passed like an injured slug across the dull concrete of the perplexing quarantine.
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Every morning during the long quarantine I had to devise some purpose, some special rung on the ladder to pretend I wanted to reach. Otherwise, deprived of a driving force, the skeleton of my day hardened and snapped.
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After a while I shut off the online lecture and lay on my bed, and sighed, and groaned in frustration, and rubbed my eyes and suddenly — Suddenly, my fellow quarantinees, I felt a Camusian fit of laughter rise in my stomach like a drowned simmer coming up for air. To hell with it all!
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