One week of social isolation viewed from the fire escape during naptime:

I watched the print shop across the street, where we get our Christmas cards printed, post a closed for the virus sign and pull down the gates for the last time till who knows when. Then Jesse tapped on the window and I climbed back inside the bedroom and erased all signs of fire escape sitting to the sound of bambi crying from a too short nap.

Around 5pm the tall man with the thick grey mustache and gold rim glasses like mine who owns the hardware store across the street, stoops out of his doorway and stands on the second step between the shop and the sidewalk. He gazes up and down the street. His shoulders have fallen months ago. Two or three people pass by. Too many. Then someone enters the shop and he follows them in.

(I'm realizing that, while yes, wire frames are back in style, the main reason I wanted them was because all the old people here in chinatown wear them and they look beautiful on them... so I guess that's a sign of aging: taking fashion cues from the owner of the hardware store.)

From every building I've seen one or two people exit and stand surrounded by luggage, waiting for a car to carry them far away from here.

Today is day eight, or maybe nine, and the sidewalks are nearly empty. But there's no lockdown yet.