When I Was Killing as a Footnote to the Virus
During these strange times of seclusion and roadblocks and restaurants closed and everybody doing their best to hold their respective own while this planetary house arrest is in progress, I guess I have nonetheless managed to find a handful of reasons to live. I felt I wanted to write you this letter, describing exactly what those reasons are, how I feel about all this, and what I find noteworthy about my life now that most of the things I have held so dear are going or gone. I hope you will please forgive me, should you find these musings utterly in poor taste, if I was mistaken, and there never should have been even an inkling of intention on my part to ever share with you what I am about to share. While my husband is writing his urgent pieces about the virus for the paper downstairs, I have taken into carrying a heavy brass candlestick with me around the house, thinking if we are going to do it, let’s go all the way with this upsetting, mauve-tinted paranoia, this hyster