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Another quiet morning. Sidewalks empty, streetlights beaming for no one but pigeons. I get up early, but it's hard to remember why. I follow routines, but it's unclear to what they may lead. On cold days, frazzled urbanites leave the river and me alone; I run long stretches without meeting another person. It seems a healthier alternative. Everyone feels symptoms in their fragile bodies. Reports say we may be hallucinating, but also that it's highly likely we are sick without knowing, there is no certainty. We begin to unravel, laughing at the slightest hilarity, crying at every obstacle. It is a lesson in humanity, in what we carry with us. I'm sure I have it, he writes, but when the pieces are broken apart, the tears look more like grief than illness, how cruel that we are complex.

But the cherry blossoms are gathering energy, the evenings begin to stretch late into the night, when traffic is quiet instead we can hear the birdsong. Some things continue to be here, even when we fear we've lost it all.

Remember: you never have lost it all.