March 19, 2020

. . . covid-19: day 7 | US: GA | info | act

Henry took some photos of the family yesterday. I’m not sure why mine is so dark.

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And here’s a poem about isolation.

“Alone”
By: Edgar Allan Poe

From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were—I have not seen
As others saw—I could not bring
My passions from a common spring—
From the same source I have not taken 5
My sorrow—I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone—
And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone—
Then—in my childhood—in the dawn
Of a most stormy life—was drawn 10
From ev’ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still—
From the torrent, or the fountain—
From the red cliff of the mountain—
From the sun that ’round me roll’d 15
In its autumn tint of gold—
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass’d me flying by—
From the thunder, and the storm—
And the cloud that took the form 20
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view—

                    

Since it’s OK to take a walk, Henry and I went to Wesleyan for a bit of fresh air. The campus was pretty deserted, and it was a beautiful day, despite the pollen.

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