There’s a numbness that has settled now. An emptiness that permeates. An apathy infecting everything. Yes, there are still the regular plunging dives further down and there are oh-so-occasional glimpses of lightness through the fog but a lot of the time there is nothing discernible. I drift from one moment to the next. I could be lying in bed watching crap TV, walking along a coastline in brilliant sunshine a deep blue sea clashing with a beige sand and brown bodies, sitting on a bus listening to music and watching mountains and lakes go by, visiting new cities or familiar spaces, buying food in the supermarket. It all provokes the same flatlining monotony. The absence of joy or even interest. Like a robot telling itself how to feel. Oh look, I think, a waterfall tumbling down rocks, through moss on a Pyrenean mountainside. I should marvel at this simple beauty. I should take a photo. So I take my phone out, I snap a picture, I move on. A gushing river, a work of art, intriguing graffiti… This is an historic old town, I tell myself. Old churches, cobbled streets, coloured houses, canals, lakes, snow piled up. I should take a photo.
And I do. I post it on Facebook. There is no emotion.