Quarantine room
For fourteen days my world has shrunk again, tighter than it’s ever been. Lockdown at home back in March–May was longer, perhaps, but its confines less strict and much more familiar, the outdoors not fully prohibited. This time, it’s down to a single room for fourteen days: the corridor out of bounds, trespassing may lead to deportation.
Cheoin-gu, Yongin-si, South Korea — Quarantine Day 7, 10:35am
And yet, at the end of this Day 10, this shrunken world does not feel so small after all.
Cheoin-gu, Yongin-si, South Korea — Quarantine Day 10, 12:09pm
The human brain is an amazingly flexible organ, adapting to its environment like an octopus squeezing through the smallest nooks of the rock in effortless shape-shifting.
Suddenly, the narrow confines of the room expand to reveal multiple fractal dimensions, those that would otherwise pass unnoticed.
At the same time, this collapsed black hole I’ve fell into is pierced by technological wormholes, the screens keeping me thankfully, virtually tethered to the untouchable world out there.
A duality that has become the new reality of our age. Welcome to the Matrix.
