Weekly state: swathed.

The pressurised doors open and I am back in my terrarium.

Bodily autonomy is just a farce when the elements really want you out of somewhere. Therefore, I am adapting, embracing the moist state that I will be in.

I am wrapped in warm air, a feeling that I have been longing for ever since I last felt it. Even when it is not there, I create it artificially. The blowdryer of the subcontinent is coddling me into thinking of more innocent days.

It is easy to complain, mostly because some are not used to it. They tend to run, away into conditioned rooms, conditioned trains, conditioned cars and ultimately, conditioned state of mind. Artificial in nature, but nature knows better. It will strike you as long as you don’t pay respects.

So I here I sit again, swathed by humidity and hot air, in the stream of my very own gigantic blowdryer, watching the denialists produce sweat on their bodies working overtime.