I was trying to think of a witty bon mot for the title, but I couldn’t think of one; so, instead, I used ‘bon mot’ in the first sentence.
Feeling like we are all, nationally and locally, caught in a web. It began last winter and has slowly wrapped around us. The first, barely visible to us, was silk made of coronavirus. We could feel the thicker lines in the spring when most of us stayed home. We marched and cried out, in spite of the early obstacles, to say Black Lives Matter, but as the summer set in we turned here and there, not united, tangling ourselves in the sustained uncertainty. We split. Everything became political, and the web stretched.
“Will you walk into my parlour?” said the spider to the fly.
Who is the spider and who is the fly? How do we get out of this?