Draußen ist feindlich (lockdown diaries)
Words of fiction Upon rumours that selling coffee may be banned and nothing but grocery shops will remain open for the foreseeable future, I venture out of the house. I put on my warmest hooded jacket and conceal two thirds of my face’s real estate with a covering. A hesitant step over the threshold. It drizzles and it chills. It’s mid January in Northern Europe (which Britain is now remotely associated with) and the winter is finally kicking in. Goldfrapp’s “Utopia” has been chosen to accompany me on my perilous journey to my local cafe slash bakery. Escapist pop for an escape from home. The chainsaw of a bass dictates the tempo of my steps. The police can fine me if I trespass the five mile radius I’m allowed to play within. The State only allows for “essential” shops to stay open. The State will be tightening the restrictions in the days to come. Memories of growing up in communism cloud my head. Queuing up for oranges and bananas stocked once a winter in each town. Being afraid