a meeting at the bins

Self-quarantine day 10. Me and two other neighbours ran into each other in our pyjamas down by the bins and stood in a broad triangle, laughing helplessly at ourselves as the grey sun struggled to come out overhead. In Berlin we have been indoors since early November. “Does my guitar playing bother you through the floor?” ‘What? No! Does my typing bother you?’ Outside, the Spring trees are pinkening and from our courtyard we can see a square of sky and at night, three faint and distant stars.