I miss people — Seeing strangers as human beings, not potential health hazards or data points plotted on a graph, gravely illustrated by Chris Witty. I miss Bumping shoulders with passers-by, or Creating space on pavements, weaving between backpacks in the bustle of rush hour, bartering for our rite of passage. Oh, to be on a dancefloor with a diva, unaware of the space she's taking, threatening me to bAcK-tHe-F*Ck-Up or she'll call her boyfriend. Give me a queue of people with no personal boundaries, except I'm not afraid of the invisible particles they're breathing down my neck. I miss Navigating around daydreamers on their phone in narrow walkways. When 'letting someone pass' didn't involve impending death from oncoming traffic. I miss Opening gates in public parks or footpaths, using my hands with oblivious self-assurance, not a tentative, anxious elbow. I want to host people in my house, to hear about the route they took to get here, and the sound our wine glasses make as we cosy up on the sofa. I want to hug them at the door, without worrying about indirectly making my/their Nan ill. On the darker days I remind myself that brighter days are coming. For now, I'm counting down the days until I can See strangers as people.