I’m searching for silence. We’re lucky that we have enough space at home that we are not tripping over each other. We have outdoor areas to escape to where we can feel the warm sun on our faces, and can lock ourselves in different rooms when we need some space.

The noise in my head seems a lot harder to quieten. I have had to force myself to stop looking at COVID-19 data. As someone who generally avoids analysing my own diabetes numbers, I’ve suddenly become addicted to daily and weekly COVID-19 data. I have come to believe myself to be expert in statistics. (I’m really not. I don’t even really know what exponential means.)

Adding pandemic data to diabetes data is overwhelming in ways I never knew possible…

I’m avoiding a lot of online noise by not simply spending a lot less time there. I look for my peers online to see how they are and what they are sharing and saying. I avoid pretty much everything else – there seems to be so much needless chatter. I’m not really sure why some people in the diabetes world feel they have pivoted to infectious disease specialists. Sometimes, the best thing we can do is be silent, and not need to hear the sound of our own tweets…

We’ve been going for walks after dinner each night. Daylight saving ends this weekend, so that routine may need to change, but right now, it bookends the day nicely as we get some fresh air before we cocoon in for the night. Our usually bustling neighbourhood is quiet. Hardly any cars driving on the roads, far fewer people on the streets. Anyone taking their evening passeggiata keeps their distance and there is no stopping for anything more than a little wave.

The other night, as we walked, I took this photo. The timing was perfect, the setting sun lining up perfectly with one of the many laneways near our home – and inner-Melbourne version of Manhattanhenge. I stood there and snapped and listened. There was not a single sound. I breathed deeply. The world was silent. Perfectly, beautifully silent.