Perpetual war. A state where you lose focus, lose grip on the flow of time, its diurnal and seasonal rhythms, even a healthy sense of the self-in-the-world. That’s what the pandemic appears like even to adult minds—a social desert, a psychological dead-end from which flight seems impossible. Transpose that state to a child’s mind and imagine the intensity of the crisis. The world has imposed on them, without any warning, a life bereft of most of our normal markers of comfort and delight—a life that could be deemed normal only for ancient warriors or modern army units specialised in remote border conflicts. Time hangs like a vast, empty space, with nothing filling it—we are well into the second year now, and no signs of early closure -appear on the horizon. And remember, a young mind cognizes and processes a year as being of a much, much longer duration. Are you surprised at signs of fatigue, mental -attrition and depression creeping in? The -familiar hum of school, the laughter of classmates, would now be a distant memory for the really younger ones. How to comport oneself in group situations is something you have to learn by doing—the chance for that normal behavioural evolution is snuffed out. ‘The outdoor’ is taboo—with it goes the -tactile connection with the planet.