It has been a little over eight weeks now. Very long since I interacted with a human being outside the virtual realm. I cannot tell you the precise number of days. I have been losing track of time.

There have been days when time stood still, days when time rushed past me. Long hours of staring into screens, not registering much. Some days I am a bundle of negativity, and on some rare occasions, patient, calm. On Tuesday I made eleven phone calls back home, and on Friday I had a half-hearted conversation with my father, in no mood to speak.

In between these oscillations, my plants have been dying slowly, even though I water them often. Perhaps my anxieties are affecting them too. I worry that I will run out of cigarettes soon. Food, not so much. I have always hated eating alone.

I am aware that my mind doesn’t construe things the way it did before. Instead it only responds. These responses are at times periods of being blank, at times a whirlwind of emotions, at times dreams of my mother’s face, my lover’s hands. Perhaps I am trying to find some kind of meaning in these responses, to keep myself sane.

I am trying to build something tangible with these responses, something I can touch, something I can look at, not later, but now. The material and tactile nature of things bring me a strange comfort. So I am making these photographs and building a small exhibition with them, to remind myself that people and places still exist outside screens.