When I gaze out the window, which I do a lot these days, I see what others see: not much.
Snow falls silently. (This is, after all, the Chicago suburbs in springtime.) Someone walks a dog. A car rumbles by. So it goes in the age of the stay-at-home order constricting tens of millions of Americans. But that’s not the thing. What so many of us sense is something else -- the unseen grip of the coronavirus, and with it comes an existential awakening that reminds me of the Passover season.
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