💥✍ “Loneliness is collective; it is a city,” Olivia Laing writes in 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘓𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘊𝘪𝘵𝘺: 𝘈𝘥𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘉𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘈𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦. We live in an ex-Centra (ex-shop). According to Google Maps we 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 live in a Centra. Friends on first visits always drive past. When we first moved in, the shop possessed deep-green lacquered walls & clouds of black mould; shop counters that, when we shifted them, cities of gooey jellies & pennies sprung forth. We gutted Centra, we magnolia'd Centra into what became one big room divided with furniture rather than walls. We sowed a runway of lights on the ceiling. Our kids cycle laps & throw hoops under this constellation. Until yesterday we ran laps of it every second day; for the foreseeable tomorrows I will run laps everyday - *laps of luxury* I call them. It is a territory that we have made into the image of our lives. Sometimes it proffers new images. It's social. It's home. I run to unpack my writing. Writing is a physical act, like making & experiencing art is a physical act. This physically confined territory in which I run helps to elbow & knee dumb & circular arguments into submission so I can begin to write. Like "Zooey & Franny" in J.D.Salinger's 𝘍𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘡𝘰𝘰𝘦𝘺 the arguments can become bigger than the room that contains them. The bigger the argument the smaller the room the sweatier the run becomes. The days before the 2km lockdown we had escaped to remote forests for hours on end wishing to get lost & lonely so time would surprise us when we returned to the car. Since the 2km lockdown our kids have ventured into the walled & overgrown corners of our garden for the first time, to shout to the kids' voices next door... also homebound. The kids next door were there 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 - we could hear them - but now, for some reason, kids need each other, especially when there's walls between them. My son Noah asks, "Can they come into our garden after the virus?" I reply, "Yes, after the virus, Noah. After the virus."🖤

APRIL 19, 2020 (ORIGINALLY POSTED ON INSTAGRAM @a_flash_in_the_small_night