In the Decameron, Giovanni Boccaccio started his story collection with a grim look at a Florence affected by the Black Plague. People dying left and right in a terrible way, bodies being sent out for disposal in droves, it's a plague that confounded the populace from the doctor to the friar to the layman. Everyone was scrambling to find a way to avoid the fate of the rest, to varying effect. And during all this, ten young people decide to flee to the countryside and tell stories.

Sadly, this countryside is nowhere to be found today, not physically. 

As of this writing, the Philippines is in a lockdown of sorts, already in its fourth tedious week, my waning sense of time probably making me miss the mark. A new plague came, but unlike the people of 14th century Europe, better measures have been made to combat this disease. But the images of bodies dropping still remain in the form of numbers on the screen, and as much as no one can even approach those inflicted by the bubonic, neither can anyone else touch those who has the corona. People die in solitude and are not allowed to mourn for. It will be a surprise if merely touching the clothes of those who had been infected will also cause contagion.

The advice is obvious: remain indoors. Businesses are closed and no one is allowed outside for no reason. The television offers nothing but reruns and news updates, connected by the repetition of things. This can't go on forever, but while Boccaccio chronicled 10 days, the lockdown is expected to last a month.

I'm saying all this because I have been stuck in this house ever since the start of this quarantine. With only cable and an internet connection to get by it's not as fun as my usual routine as I cannot simply leave for whatever matter. We can still buy supplies, but with supermarkets almost running out of stuff and the risk of getting something else for free in there, shopping is kept to a minimum.

Right now I'm not alone, my family is also stuck in this place, with the only person with a job not going in for he has other health issues to deal with and possibly adding another one isn't worth it. My niece goes on with her usual ways through all this, a bit oblivious to the events around her, something may be a bit off, but whether she notices it is not for me to know.

Board games are not a good idea as the child will simply spoil everything, and I have no want to talk to them about my current state of affairs, so most of my conversations have been online. Also online is where I look for things to waste time, and find that I had wasted it too much for my liking. My plans to write or read tends to get overriden by useless things.

A few days ago an argument broke out at home, and now I have to witness my mother and my sister not giving each other any notice whatsoever. My sister ask why I get affected, but how depressing a sight is it to see a mother and daughter try to avoid each other? The place has become quiet, and not even the cheerful noise of my niece can fix that.

Some things you can never take for granted, you don't know what it is you have until it's gone. It's easy to noticed how one's mundane activities were once circumstances force him into a new habit. Being stuck in this house makes me miss for those one would not usually miss, and I don't even go out often.

The places that are usually busy are silent, the loudest of districts has become ghost towns, this is an unusual sight for anyone. Also jarring is how social life has to pause, keep its distance. Even an interaction with a stranger has to make way for safety, everyone is a possible carrier and it's not worth risking it.

What isn't silent are the hospitals and media places, patrols and borders; somehow the country must keep going, even with a terribly undermanned staff. Medical facilities are busy, goods still have to be distributed and the deliverymen must deliver through the deserted roads filled with an unkown air.

The Decameron concluded with the three boys and seven girls heading home and moving on with their lives. I hope for the day where we can go outside and see the sights again, the places and experiences. For now, a short walk away feels like miles.