Life before COVID-19 was our tower. Its walls were thick, built to protect us from our enemies: physical, political and elemental. We belonged there, safe on the hill, but nature attacked us, sending an enemy so small that we could not see it coming. It got in through the cracks in our defences, crept in through the spaces between each block we thought so secure and took us apart, stone by stone, removing the work of generations overnight. Play has stopped. Life is fragmenting, broken into the pieces of a jigsaw we cannot reassemble into the old picture. We are locked into the ruins above our reflections, but the river runs on, eddies round the rocks as yesterday’s debris is carried away.