The air is clear, a brittle sun shines off leaves, an unusual glitter. Paced and parted runners puff and thud in cushioned trainers. Children, not understanding the rules of separation, serpentine across the path. A man sits smoking, insouciant on the forbidden bench. Occasional encounters, six feet spaced, chat on each side of the gap. All return to restriction, some to isolation- four walls advancing on the sense of self.Sarah Worster