i I look everywhere for solace but find none. The past seems more oppressive even than the present where I wallow speechless. Spring has finally come: the air is cheering and sunlit. Below, outside, from my window, I can see the people passing in lighter clothes, coats open, unbundled but for the white hospital masks they now wear reflexively—seemingly unmindful of the aberration, this mark … Continue reading Quarantine, mon amour by John Jack Jackie (Edward) Cooper