and so they say

Say one thing about typing on a regular machine say I can't remember what it felt like after almost three months of no activity. Does it feel good you ask?
exceptionally so I say.
and this is a cause for a celebration and I would have celebrated had I not been rationing on my happiness.

Day 56 of quarantine and there's something about the mood that feels  changed. The numbers keep going up but there also only the active cases which when looked at the bigger picture are minuscule or perhaps I am slowly getting immune to it all. Not the suffering but the anxiety.
Perhaps it gets abated!

How odd does it feel typing on a keyboard that isn't back lit, spread in acreage of numbers and alphabets.

Do I feel dust on my fingertips?
Could be. I need to wipe this baby down.

Agenda includes a good number of things none which I'm very keen on doing.
Uhh!

afternoon gleams into my eyes
my heart feels heavy
my hair dry
the senses are bored
a book lurks in the corner waiting to be read
I browse my mental channels
waiting to finally click someplace and stop
but that doesn't seem to likely

slowly

White curtains lit to a sunshine glow that beguile a marrow freezing gale with a tendency to soak through an unwilling chest and settle in unsuspecting lungs.

Fingertips on an almost alien keyboard terrain after what feels like months of not prodding on backlit little squares of black and silver.
Finger tips that glide uncertainly on digital topography; a gentle reminder on absence, of habits slowly breaking or broken; a souvenir perhaps from times that little in the way of being lifeless was known.
A paltry interval of a mere two weeks abundant with plenteous 'this' and 'that', 'here' and 'there'.

A comma that doesn't warrant nostalgia, instead which evokes sad memories of inorganic time wastage.
a few days hence these will become a part of daily cycle and lo, readily absorbed.