Much like all of you, my mind is swirling with a lot lately. As I sit here, in my bright little house on this quiet little street perched on the edge of a bay that gives way to the wide expanse of ocean beyond, it occurs to me once again what a strange juxtaposition this year (and this era) has been—more than ever, we’re all cocooned in, and anchored to, our own tiny individual orbits. And yet we’re so connected—digitally—to the world at large that it almost feels like we’re all sitting in a room together, shoulder to shoulder, watching each news story unfold live and in person right in front of us, turning to each other to commentate and opine and speculate.

We drive at a breakneck speed in an open-air taxi around winding roads that climb higher and higher away from the marina that sits at sea level. The air is hot and heavy, as if it carries more weight here than back at home, freighted with the scent of salt water and coconut and something spicy but citrusy. We pass Cinnamon Bay and I clutch at the edge of the taxi’s door frame, sure that we’re going to drop right off the sheer face of the cliff to our left every time a truck comes whooshing past us without slowing down.