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As we go into the winter months in what seems to be a dystopian nightmare reflection of the first half of this year, I begin to reflect on the very constant and present fear/ anxiety that this pandemic has imposed in even the “strongest” of people. I considered myself to be one of these people until I could only think about the cold. It’s the one consistent thing that you can see coming every year, the cold. Yet every year we try to hold on to the last bits of warmth as hard as we can even though we know it will fade like the leaves on the trees. Tough love is about holding onto this feeling of warmth and softness that is so closely related to summer and freedom. We’re living in a time when nothing is certain, everything is closed and it seems like everyone is closed as well; the warmth of a blanket may be the only thing we can count on. I want to translate the reliability and joy of a warm blanket in our distanced realities.
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