I told myself I would write about the lockdown, about the times we're living. But I'm out of words. No, not short but out. Words that don't emote. Much like the days. Days that morphed into each other. They weren't even gradual with it. Dates only seemed to drag or fly by when looked at a calendar, just seemed stagnated otherwise. And in that limbo is what I spent my time in. Shuffling new routines, struggling with old habits. Mind floating between places and people, dreaming and drawing pictures of the same. Body oscillating between the ends of the spectrum with every possible slump on side and the characteristic high on the other. Amidst all this, if there's one thing I genuinely lost track of was seeing myself. I always wondered what it is like to look and not see. How could one not observe and register and then later ponder. Oh, sometimes ponder a lot. Yes, there was the occasional application of kohl or brushing my hair that got me in front of a mirror but nothing that filled me with any thought. Just didn't hold my attention and I'm unsure I know what did then. Having only realised this late into my time in Leimakhong and then bitterly acknowledging it, I would find myself absentmindedly catching a glimpse of my self in things while passing by. Vaguely unrecognisable and alien the image seemed but not quiet as strange as the feeling of actually seeing myself looking back at me. Documented those moments incase I learn to forget again. #QuarantineSpeak (at Leimakhong, Manipur) https://www.instagram.com/p/CBWUlR0Ap_F/?igshid=114oesog5shsp