Wednesday, February 24

I go outside to check the postbox and take a set of full colour images of the trees and sky. They all look like variations of this.

The mist has cleared somewhat since this morning, but the trees still stand indistinctly in grayscale.

When I get to the end of the road I will discover that no post has arrived.

I have had enough of this for the next year or so. I understand that most other people have too. We wait for winter to go and we wait for the pandemic to abate. And while we wait we sit at screens doing this and that.

But mainly that.