I terrify myself once again with visions of nuclear war and the end of everything, scanning all Estonian news sites for updates on Ukraine, hunting for the latest on Putin in The New York Times, hoping that perhaps the focus there is different, that some detail in a new light will feed the fire of fear. I glance through the openings of the articles and their comments in the English version of Pravda until their sameness numbs me, and I realise I have wasted nearly two hours on it all. A few days ago Mariupol was bombed; the tension is as sharp as it was during the annexation of Crimea or the downing of the Malaysian plane, and it paralyses me because I am not travelling.
January 2015