I don’t usually strain at the leash to leave my apartment. I never cared for a view. Generally, my quality time stays local. Travel is best done in the mind anyway, I think, even if my mental wanderings are usually homebound. But these days, since I can’t go out, that doesn’t imply where I’m living now, where I have my love, my books, my life. Thomas Wolfe be forgiven (or damned), I wish I could go home again—to that place smoldered by time, that place I couldn’t get away from fast enough. Yep, quarantined and a cliché. Royal flush.
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