Reporting live from Boston during the coronavirus pandemic.

Quarantine is a strange place to be. Staying home is the easiest thing to do yet the most difficult at the same time. The days have melted into one. Time seems irrelevant. There are only three days of the week: yesterday, today, and tomorrow. The world inside can feel remarkably dull. I live in a shoebox-sized apartment with three other roommates. We begin the day by connecting on who has work calls when so we can rotate through the apartment in order to complete them. We end by closing our laptops and taking brisk walks outside in order to get a small spoonful of fresh air.

The world outside is strangely silent. Strangers are threatened by my presence alone. A trip to the grocery store feels like a death wish. We don’t leave our neighborhood much.

Yet, despite the calamity, there is still human kindness. Friends have checked in. Family has called more often. Neighbors have been nicer. There is hope. There is humanity.

I myself have been inspired to reach out and connect despite the craziness. I’ve sent letters to friends. I left a note for my elderly neighbor asking if he needed anything (and also complimenting his lovely piano playing which I am privileged to hear on occasion). I’ve ordered more takeout from the Thai place next door in order to support local business during this.

We are going on week five. And quarantine is still a strange place to be. But I think we have found contentment in it.

Quarantine Photo Series

A quarantine birthday celebration