Coronaviruses are so named due to their resemblance to solar coronas. So several dozens have died (41 officially) and cases have exceeded 1,000. Of that Wuhan flu.
I have noticed, when we don’t have to perform for others, those cognitive resources now free to go synaesthesia. I see a shape and colour—as one form it is unique—and wish to sing back to it. It is like a chorus. Different trees have different songs. All the colours have their own sounds. I grab the colours of the foliage and I taste the morning light. Everything resonates with everything. The birds are beautiful. Everything is. Being neurotypical sounds like a curse.
Talking, grammar. That’s more difficult than it used to be. Maybe back then, we didn’t have to speak so much. Academic work is largely research, isn’t it? Reading, writing, not so much talking.
To be blessed with a synaesthete’s brain, with an excess of neurons to prime us for integration into a complex society. I’ve kept a lot of the leftovers, though.
I’ve put the puppy plushie on my head. Ah, it is 0624 now. It feels good to stim in such a way. A nice, soft weight lying on my scalp. I can’t stand a grip around my head. But a simple weight? That’s very soothing.
That’s right. Since it was first identified on 31 December, over a thousand people worldwide by the end of January. And how many people have died now? By the time you read this…
—Anatolij, 2020.08.12