Klara and I went to the mall today. It was so great. We squealed and laughed and rode the escalator up and down and then all over again. Then we changed in the bathroom and played that we are really chic ladies. And then we played that we are evil lobsters but that’s life with a 4-year-old. We got a sparkly jacket for me, a unicorn t-shirt number five million for Klara, a collection of Toni Morrison’s novels for a friend, a bunch of rainbow scrunchies, and two new bestsellers. We talked and giggled and it was perfect.
But the mall was ghostly. Instead of all this fun, we are supposed to sit at home and stare at our devices. And we accept it because we are too bamboozled and terrified of the imaginary dangers of human company.