Almost two weeks ago in a moment of complete weakness I volunteered to spend twenty minutes or so working on a bit of online tidying for an organisation with which I am affiliated. "Twenty minutes" it turns out is tech-speak for "the rest of your natural life, or until your retinas burn out and you start seeing spots in all of your waking and sleeping hours." Clearly it was time for a break in some sunlight.
The other of us seemed to be emerging from her work cocoon as well so we figured (and this should surprise no one), that there could be no better way of clearing the cobwebs from our brains than to take a long walk along the beach in complete social isolation apart from perhaps a thousand or so others with exactly the same intent.
It must be said that unlike the crowds from just a week ago, everyone was taking great care to keep a safe distance, constantly moving, mostly not stopping.
It seemed to us that far above this mass of shuffling humanity, someone has been hoarding clouds along with their toilet paper, until there was not a one left in the sky.
We weren't the only ones coming out of our cocoons, in fact if we'd been able to count them they would have outnumbered us by a large margin. Those black specks in the sky of this photo are not dirt on the lens, nor were they symptoms of too much screen time.
Thousands of butterflies joined us, romping at an admirably safe distance, constantly moving, none of them stopping to chat, running from we not what or to we know not where, but running madly anyway in a frenetic dash that combined with the brilliance of the day to tire us just by watching.
So we wandered home for a snooze.
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