Extract from The Picture of Stars by

T he War Against Coronavirus

The world has been flipped upside down. New headlines around the world are showing devastating things: an unknown serial killer is on the loose and we are powerless to stop it. It does not discriminate between age, colour, race, or even species, killing wantonly, painfully, suffocatingly. Isolated, lonely, and scared. Locked up in a room with no other human. Wake up everyday living the same life: wake up, eat, work, sleep and repeat. They look out the window, longing to go outside, longing to see people, longing to get back to ordinary life. This malicious monster has struck globally, spreading tragedy across ocean and land, shocking nations upon nations. Slowly but surely it’s killing the innocent people who simply wanted to go out and enjoy life. Going out, seeing friends, resulted in tragedy that ended lives. Spending last breaths thinking about how loss could have been avoided if they had just stayed…

“I should’ve stayed inside, washed my hands, worn a mask, kept two meters distant.” But this is not enough. It is everywhere. Anywhere. Everywhere.

We can’t escape this. We are suffocated by this. We have to learn to live with this destructive demon.

The devil does not look like it is leaving, we are just going to have to live with this horrific villain.

Coronavirus!

Photos and text by Jasmine Patel

Returning Returning

don’t see them on Tuesday. Or the rest I of the week. Or for the rest of my life.

“Returning this book; here for another.” And with that we’d exchange: an old classic for a brand new science fiction, or my current favourite book for theirs. Twice a week. Every Tuesday and every Friday. But after the last Friday I never saw them again.

Occasionally I wonder what could have happened, one of the few familiar faces in the eternal ferris-wheel of customers suddenly disappearing. But I never knew who to contact if I wanted to find them. They fell to the back of my mind, but I always fondly remembered our bi-weekly exchanges. And I miss it all. later. I would find out what happened months

I dumped my things on the table and locked my door. Habitually walking through my apartment after a long Friday - it took ages to close up shop that day - I flicked on the TV (automatically set to the news for speed’s sake).

A solemn, static voice drifted to my ears. “-a thirty two year old Latino man. His body was found in the Buffalo Bayou after he was reported missing four and a half months ago. Police have issued apologies to his family and loved ones.”

Then I look up, and learn their name for the very first time.

By Anonymous