Quarantine, day six. I´m standing in Paris, in one of my favorite spots. It´s a fountain in the Tuileries, near the Louvre. There are green metal chairs scattered around, inviting people to sit and relax for a few moments, or for an afternoon. Wind mixes with birdsong as I stand and take it all in. It feels as if I´m the last person on Earth, standing here alone in an empty park-but at least I´m outside.Quarantine, day seven. I´m in a different city, vaguely Soviet in appearance. Again, there is nobody else around-or nobody living, anyway. City 17 is quiet, but for the headcrabs. I holster my pistol and admire the crumbling remains of the North Star Hotel, imagine it in happier times.To read this article in full, please click here
|
