So Young, So tired; Prodigal Essays about myself during COVID-19 Pandemic. 2020. #1

It’s been too many days since the WHO announced covid-19 as a global health emergency.

A couple of months ago I took an abrupt leave from reality, finding myself paralysed in a world that’s continued moving at first virtually, but as the government eases Lockdown, the streets fill up and Economy keeps stepping.

In the UK, although "Black lives Matter' riders are still working - despite the efforts "all lives matter" or even worse, "bame lives matter " crews best efforts to silence , whitewash the resurgence of the movement. Tweets of "@blmuk where’s the money bro ?", And links to Reni’s book are still flying around, some groups have torn away into their "[Insert other group that isn’t Black] lives matter” resistance groups, brushing up on their Adobe skills to reappropriate and recolour the black liberation fist for their logo. (Whilst, avoiding research of universal symbols/colours of liberation for their movements)

I feel niave; a few mantras ago I screamed "Capitalism waits for no man". So, as I sit in this hospital chair watching my 7 inboxes blow up with CC’s and BCC’s showing me just how exactly for nearly 28 days.

Like many or us, all I have to show of myself from over 3 months or lockdown are dwindling petitions and crowdfunders and overly ambitious projects we’re still awaiting funding for.