12th April ’20, Day 20 of Isolation

I laid on the blue blanket that had been to festivals and on many walks and had shimmered with glitter and been drenched in beer, in the garden under the sun and listened to the hum upon hum upon hum of black and white Ashy Mining bees and really loud birds, especially the robin sat on the electric wire whose big throat constricted as it sang the loudest. I imagined throwing an apple at robin. He was annoying.

Three gardens up, a couple listened to the radio, cracking beer cans and cackling, real dirty cackles that made my friend, Sam, who was two metres away laugh very much, he kept his head out of their eyeline behind the towel swinging on a foam-covered electric wire next door so they wouldn’t see him laugh quietly everytime they did.

I was surprised how quickly the daisies and dandelions had grown back since the lawn was mowed a few days ago. Israel told me the Latin word for daisy the other day, it had a lovely meaning. I’d forgotten. One of the bees buzzed so close to me, get this, I felt the breeze of its wings on my hand.

Robin flew off. Someone started a lawn mower, another person something that sounded like a chain saw. Robin returned.

Bees bees bees. One landed on my groin, saw there was nothing worth noting and whizzed off.

Till the sun dipped and my toes chilled, I stayed sprawled on the blanket.

The days are similar.

Time pulls on emptily and there are no immediate things to worry about aside from sanitising what I bring into the house, the bread packet, oat milk cartons, boxes of tea bags, every single tomato and clementine has been scrubbed with soap. I wash my hands so much, my skin is dry.

Later, Israel told me again, daisy in Latin is Bellis Perennis or Pretty Everlasting. Much like the emotion of being caught in a moment that feels timeless.

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