Lockdown has certainly impacted my mental equilibrium, though not in any of the ways I might have imagined. No panic attacks, thank goodness, and none of the low-level, free-floating anxiety that used to stain the brightest of days with a gloomy chiaroscuro. I’m not depressed about spending so much time on my own; I’m just bored by my own company, my own thoughts, and by the lack of stimulation. If you'd asked me what makes life worth living, there have been days when I wouldn’t have been able to come up with a ready answer.
During the winter months I’ve been going to bed early, and sleeping in late. When I’m home, I want to be out; when I’m out, I want to be home. I’m not looking intently enough to take good photographs; I’m not concentrating hard enough to write well. I’m easily distracted. Of course, this lassitude may be a relatively sane way of coping with such unusual circumstances. Roll on springtime!
Licensed today: the bus station in Rochdale…
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