So much evil. So little time.
My copy of Mary Trump's book arrived today, and I just finished the prologue. It's a gut punch.
A friend from uni has contracted COVID, along with her son, and doesn't know if she'll survive.
New Hampshire, relatively untouched by the virus for the past six months, is starting to explode with cases.
We're all prisoners now - if not locked in our homes, imprisoned by the fear of an invisible killer that's everywhere: breathing the air can now kill you.
The walls on each of our prisons are narrowing as the numbers of infected and the numbers of dead race upward, at an exponentially increasing rate.
And all I keep thinking, over and over, is "So much pain and suffering and sadness. All due to the failings of one man".