Apocalypse How?

Amidst gaseous headlines, one morning produced an eerily apt London fog. I took this shot from the bus-stop, and didn’t even notice two old friends re-uniting (in the middle of traffic, no less) ‘til after I’d saved the photo.

Twice now, the office has sent us home early after news of a ‘gassing’ somewhere. Yesterday it was Evelyn Hone, the news still coming in dribs and drabs. Both the motivation and profiles of the perpetrators remain unclear. You get the sense that Zambians are excited by the idea of ‘news’ happening on their streets. We have a thing to talk about, to unite against. We’re all terrified, but we’re all kind of excited too. 

What a time to be alive, and also Zambian. Climate change threatening to turn people’s verandas into Lake Kariba whilst simultaneously depriving Lake Kariba. The Coronavirus compromising your manners; making you hurry out of rooms when a colleague sneezes, or flick and cover your nose to address a make-believe irritation. 

Just me? Okay then, cool.

The more incidents there are, the more we learn. A friend’s childhood home was attacked last night. The reaction his family describes, en route to the clinic, brings tear gas to mind. There’s nausea, scratchiness at the throat, a prickly sensation along your skin, a sudden and severe exhaustion. One hopes authorities will assemble a small team of ghostbusters, if you will, to fumigate gassed properties. 

Meantime, stay safe. Add stuff to your list on Netflix (I’ll help with that). Tweet things about the weekend football (I’ll like it, and I’ll reply). Take advantage of amazing deals online, like the one that got me an Xbox. (I’ll help with that too). I just shoot at aliens all day now, with all the relish of a gun-toting Republican. (We said no politics, didn’t we? Dang.)

It feels like a weird time to launch an online journal but the Internet is a fickle, shape-shifting place, and so am I. Let’s tell each other stories while we can. Let’s be humans, etcetera. See how long the feeling lasts.