As the great quiet of lockdown spread across the land we held our breath and waited. Waited for the moment the virus would make itself known in our lives, in our streets and amongst our friends and family.
I felt short of breath and strangely disassociated, and then a few days later along came the cough. And all the while a stone lay heavy on my chest, constricting each breath. By the weekend I have my first-ever panic attack.
As a photographer I am used to engaging with what I can see, but this, like the virus, is invisible. Along with everyone else I become obsessed with growing plants. It’s a while before I find the confidence to go out to the allotment, but I do – breathless in the early morning sunlight, taking my gloves off to risk the feel of the earth.