Throughout the epidemic in 2020, I became more permeable and sensitive to my surroundings. When I learned of someone's illness or death, I would experience a surge of fear and panic that would tighten my chest and make breathing difficult. I felt as if I had entered a different universe because of the unearthly silence that pervaded everything. While the rest of the world went on, it felt like time had stopped for me alone. It has been a long, uninterrupted day, full of bitter experiences. The lines between the past and the future are no longer distinct; they both appear to merge into the present. Days pass in the blink of an eyes, yet every moment seems to drag on forever. I started to feel as though I was experiencing time, sound, space, and behavior for the first time. I started looking closely at the objects around me the loom and yarn resting on the floor, the cleaning tools, the vase, the flowers, even the quiet movements of my daughter. I had seen these before, they had always been there. However, they now had a distinct presence. In addition, I began to focus on language sentences, poetry, prose, and memories. After a long pause, I began to write again. Like silent disclosures, scenarios began to emerge one after the other with every piece of writing. I transformed these sequences into images some still like a poem, others gently moving, like memories coming to life. Read More