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April 20, 2020 – Journal Entry

Everyday I’m sure I’m sick, something hurts. I cough, my throat is sore, my chest is aching.
Every night I dream I’m in New York, there are fires all around me and I’m trying to escape.

There’s no way out.

Governor Cuomo sits stone faced on the morning news. Last year, last month, he was thinking of baseball, the budget, his beautiful girl. Now, he wakes up every morning to find 700 more people have died in his state. He sits near motionless, stiff with sadness and helplessness. His face ages before the camera, his jowls sink lower and lower until they hang below his bended knees. His eyes fill with blood from the dead, tears for the families who mourn.

We are a nation under siege. Our warriors are nurses and doctors. Our casualties fell at dinners, parks, museums. And now we stay home to try to quell the madness mother earth has expelled. The storms, the tornados, earthquakes, floods, and now this. Someone’s angry at the humans.

R.B.

newyork

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