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The giant glass sliding door of my apartment reaches from the top of the high ceiling to the bottom of the wooden floor. It’s surrounded by a thick black border of steel, like a large framed artwork of a city landscape. Perched on the seventh floor of what was previously an office building, the glass wall looks out over the Mother City. I find myself standing in front of it daily with my hands in my pockets. Staring out into the city as the streets slowly start filling up with cars and humans after the Covid-19 pandemic ground everything to a halt. Some are calling it"the lost year".
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