Sunday, October 4, 2020

Odd reaction to descriptions that I read in books.

Lately I've noticed that social distancing has become so ingrained, that some deeply submerged part of me crawls and writhes a little bit inside if I even read about some non-socially distanced activity.

Like for example, this past week I was finishing up Margaret Atwood's sequel to the Handmaid's Tale, and part of me crawled internally when they mentioned a choir concert/singalong in the closing pages, since it automatically seemed so inadvisable for you to go put yourself into that type of situation, even though the activity was described in fiction as part of a clearly fictional setting.

The same thing happened, too, when I was reading a book about the Jeffrey Epstein case, and the author described packing people into a larger courtroom for some important hearing involved with his case.

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