Miniaturizing Mini Corona
Lock down was outwardly leashing while unleashing at heart. I am personally interested in the later aspect of it because, as most of its witnesses or let us say victims, there is no point of fascination in its external dimension. Where it bounded the hands of industrious beings and cunning capitalists, it confined the perspectives of creatives eyes to mere windows. Being into a room, for not hours and hours but months and months, reminds me the predicament of Kafka’s Gregor Samsa or perhaps Kafka himself. And then Kafka reminds me of the unconscious… stop yawr ! I guess I should stop talking to my friend, the unconscious, now for Its time to plunge into creative inner courtyards of the writers whom this hegemonic span has galvanized to fill the vessel of Pandemic Short Fiction. Reading the pandemic short fiction took my-“self” directly towards the actual rooms from where, I consider, all stories come. Yes! I tried to stay aloof from recolle...