In the U.S. more people have died of the coronavirus than from the September 11 massacre.

In Italy, we’ve reached a plateau indicating that things are getting better. Unfortunately, because so many parents are freaking out having to stay inside all day with their children, permission has now been given for a parent to take a child out for a walk. It is, in my opinion, a very unwise decision. After China eased up on restrictions, people began getting infected again.

My sleeping schedule is in disarray. A couple of weeks ago, I would fall asleep but then wake up during the night with a sense of anxiety. Now I don’t even fall asleep.

What is so very overwhelming about the coronavirus is that it saturates the atmosphere with the presence of death. There is no spontaneity in daily life, just a constant worry to take necessary precautions or wind up dead. To give me hope, I’ve planted seeds. Because planting a seed means believing in a future.

Every morning I rush to the balcony to see if any of my seeds have sprouted. Of course it is too soon but I’m like a child eager for the arrival of Santa Claus. Just as a child looks forward to the gifts he’ll receive at Christmas, I look forward to the day when my seeds will transform into little green heads pushing up from under the dirt.

The yucca have been rearranged to make room for food producing plants. But I’ve read that much of the yucca is edible.

Since I can’t go out to buy seeds, I’ve planted the seeds from fresh produce. Above: cherry tomatoes and bell peppers.

Harvested lettuce.

Sometimes, if you want a paradise, you have to make it yourself.

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