By June, the virus was no longer a terrifying mystery from the deep, less the phantasmagoric beast who might devour everybody you ever loved than an invisible houseguest who wouldn’t leave. All the markers of season and ritual had been deleted from the document of experience. The school year ended with the ceremonial closing of a laptop. No convocations, no parties, no recitals: anti-pomp, noncircumstance. These customs shape time and set your feet in history, but all that was gone and the effect was dizzying and dark. The workday never started nor ended. Wednesdays felt like Fridays and
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