Tania Arenas
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Fifty Meters Above
Being fifty metres above Central London proved to be a cathartic retreat from the sound of enervated car engines and the stifle of the congested tube. Fifty metres above Central London, the city was a human body and I was but an insignificant, microscopic cell living in it. I have been irrationally grappling with billions…
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Under My Own Skin
There comes a point in lockdown when beyond feeling trapped in my bedroom, I begin to feel trapped within my own skin – almost like it’s no longer mine. The person I am, underneath quarantine-related afflictions, is unknown to me. So, as I ease into a world that the news flippantly calls normal, I am…