West Jefferson Medical Center thanks local restaurant for donating spaghetti and meatball dinners to its Emergency Room night "krewe."

In mid-march my school transitioned to virtual classes and sent everyone home for the semester. I've mostly been at home in Manhattan since then; the last time I rode the subway, previously a daily occurrence, was over six weeks ago now. At home and in the neighborhood nearby since then, I feel as though I can look out the window onto a previous version of myself that could not have anticipated any of this. I also feel as though I look at myself now through a window, because after over a month, this all still feels fake in a way. It’s as though time has been suspended and I’m watching myself filling that time that “doesn’t count.” There is a numbness that comes with not being able to do any of what we’re used to and not being able to see people who we thought nothing of seeing every day in the past. The window analogy is both a way of conceptualizing but also deliberately engaging in that numbness and removing oneself from the reality of the situation, perhaps on both a personal and global level. It’s also a way of rebuilding the wall that has been breached by collision of home with the spaces that are normally outside of it, like work and school, and are now part of the same physical setting, albeit digitally. This has made me think a lot about windows, which are everywhere in New York, and so I started to take pictures of windows in buildings I passed while going for walks. The windows themselves all look similar; despite differences in architectural style, they are all in essence the same glass barrier between inside and outside and public and private. It’s not something specific to life in a pandemic, but during this time it is especially relevant because for people staying mostly at home, our windows are potentially the only glimpse of the outside that we’ll see in a day. They divide our former lives and everything that we’d normally be doing outside of home from our current lives that have suspended many of those activities and digitized others. It’s easier to think about these private separate lives going on behind the windows I pass when there are fewer people out on the street. Normally the act of passing people as I walk is more engaging than what I can’t see in the closed-off apartment buildings, but now there is not a lot going on in the streets. It’s interesting to think I’m probably closer in distance to people behind the walls of the ground floors of buildings than the people I can see on the street, especially on the less busy streets that are particularly empty these days.

Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, classes at the University of New Orleans are all taking place online. However, not all students have access to a computer or the internet. In order to meet all of the course requirements, undergraduate student Morgan Authement completed her assignments by hand, photographed them, and emailed them to her professor with her phone.

Scott Walker Media provides 75 face shields for medical personnel at East Jefferson General Hospital. Scott Walker challenges others to get involved in donating PPE to area hospitals. A local festival planning company, Pelican Events, shifted its operations to produce masks locally.

In mid-march my school transitioned to virtual classes and sent everyone home for the semester. I've mostly been at home in Manhattan since then; the last time I rode the subway, previously a daily occurrence, was over six weeks ago now. At home and in the neighborhood nearby since then, I feel as though I can look out the window onto a previous version of myself that could not have anticipated any of this. I also feel as though I look at myself now through a window, because after over a month, this all still feels fake in a way. It’s as though time has been suspended and I’m watching myself filling that time that “doesn’t count.” There is a numbness that comes with not being able to do any of what we’re used to and not being able to see people who we thought nothing of seeing every day in the past. The window analogy is both a way of conceptualizing but also deliberately engaging in that numbness and removing oneself from the reality of the situation, perhaps on both a personal and global level. It’s also a way of rebuilding the wall that has been breached by collision of home with the spaces that are normally outside of it, like work and school, and are now part of the same physical setting, albeit digitally. This has made me think a lot about windows, which are everywhere in New York, and so I started to take pictures of windows in buildings I passed while going for walks. The windows themselves all look similar; despite differences in architectural style, they are all in essence the same glass barrier between inside and outside and public and private. It’s not something specific to life in a pandemic, but during this time it is especially relevant because for people staying mostly at home, our windows are potentially the only glimpse of the outside that we’ll see in a day. They divide our former lives and everything that we’d normally be doing outside of home from our current lives that have suspended many of those activities and digitized others. It’s easier to think about these private separate lives going on behind the windows I pass when there are fewer people out on the street. Normally the act of passing people as I walk is more engaging than what I can’t see in the closed-off apartment buildings, but now there is not a lot going on in the streets. It’s interesting to think I’m probably closer in distance to people behind the walls of the ground floors of buildings than the people I can see on the street, especially on the less busy streets that are particularly empty these days.

Bourbon Heat restaurant delivers food to frontline workers at area hospitals and fire stations.

In mid-march my school transitioned to virtual classes and sent everyone home for the semester. I've mostly been at home in Manhattan since then; the last time I rode the subway, previously a daily occurrence, was over six weeks ago now. At home and in the neighborhood nearby since then, I feel as though I can look out the window onto a previous version of myself that could not have anticipated any of this. I also feel as though I look at myself now through a window, because after over a month, this all still feels fake in a way. It’s as though time has been suspended and I’m watching myself filling that time that “doesn’t count.” There is a numbness that comes with not being able to do any of what we’re used to and not being able to see people who we thought nothing of seeing every day in the past. The window analogy is both a way of conceptualizing but also deliberately engaging in that numbness and removing oneself from the reality of the situation, perhaps on both a personal and global level. It’s also a way of rebuilding the wall that has been breached by collision of home with the spaces that are normally outside of it, like work and school, and are now part of the same physical setting, albeit digitally. This has made me think a lot about windows, which are everywhere in New York, and so I started to take pictures of windows in buildings I passed while going for walks. The windows themselves all look similar; despite differences in architectural style, they are all in essence the same glass barrier between inside and outside and public and private. It’s not something specific to life in a pandemic, but during this time it is especially relevant because for people staying mostly at home, our windows are potentially the only glimpse of the outside that we’ll see in a day. They divide our former lives and everything that we’d normally be doing outside of home from our current lives that have suspended many of those activities and digitized others. It’s easier to think about these private separate lives going on behind the windows I pass when there are fewer people out on the street. Normally the act of passing people as I walk is more engaging than what I can’t see in the closed-off apartment buildings, but now there is not a lot going on in the streets. It’s interesting to think I’m probably closer in distance to people behind the walls of the ground floors of buildings than the people I can see on the street, especially on the less busy streets that are particularly empty these days.

To keep our spirits up our culture and climate committee at my school created an office photo contest for the staff to show off what their home office looks like during our "stay home, stay safe, stay connected" order, which is nothing more than a watered-down version of a shelter in place order. This is a picture of my office: our dining room table converted into a desk with all my devices and curriculum materials all around me.

In mid-march my school transitioned to virtual classes and sent everyone home for the semester. I've mostly been at home in Manhattan since then; the last time I rode the subway, previously a daily occurrence, was over six weeks ago now. At home and in the neighborhood nearby since then, I feel as though I can look out the window onto a previous version of myself that could not have anticipated any of this. I also feel as though I look at myself now through a window, because after over a month, this all still feels fake in a way. It’s as though time has been suspended and I’m watching myself filling that time that “doesn’t count.” There is a numbness that comes with not being able to do any of what we’re used to and not being able to see people who we thought nothing of seeing every day in the past. The window analogy is both a way of conceptualizing but also deliberately engaging in that numbness and removing oneself from the reality of the situation, perhaps on both a personal and global level. It’s also a way of rebuilding the wall that has been breached by collision of home with the spaces that are normally outside of it, like work and school, and are now part of the same physical setting, albeit digitally. This has made me think a lot about windows, which are everywhere in New York, and so I started to take pictures of windows in buildings I passed while going for walks. The windows themselves all look similar; despite differences in architectural style, they are all in essence the same glass barrier between inside and outside and public and private. It’s not something specific to life in a pandemic, but during this time it is especially relevant because for people staying mostly at home, our windows are potentially the only glimpse of the outside that we’ll see in a day. They divide our former lives and everything that we’d normally be doing outside of home from our current lives that have suspended many of those activities and digitized others. It’s easier to think about these private separate lives going on behind the windows I pass when there are fewer people out on the street. Normally the act of passing people as I walk is more engaging than what I can’t see in the closed-off apartment buildings, but now there is not a lot going on in the streets. It’s interesting to think I’m probably closer in distance to people behind the walls of the ground floors of buildings than the people I can see on the street, especially on the less busy streets that are particularly empty these days.

In mid-march my school transitioned to virtual classes and sent everyone home for the semester. I've mostly been at home in Manhattan since then; the last time I rode the subway, previously a daily occurrence, was over six weeks ago now. At home and in the neighborhood nearby since then, I feel as though I can look out the window onto a previous version of myself that could not have anticipated any of this. I also feel as though I look at myself now through a window, because after over a month, this all still feels fake in a way. It’s as though time has been suspended and I’m watching myself filling that time that “doesn’t count.” There is a numbness that comes with not being able to do any of what we’re used to and not being able to see people who we thought nothing of seeing every day in the past. The window analogy is both a way of conceptualizing but also deliberately engaging in that numbness and removing oneself from the reality of the situation, perhaps on both a personal and global level. It’s also a way of rebuilding the wall that has been breached by collision of home with the spaces that are normally outside of it, like work and school, and are now part of the same physical setting, albeit digitally. This has made me think a lot about windows, which are everywhere in New York, and so I started to take pictures of windows in buildings I passed while going for walks. The windows themselves all look similar; despite differences in architectural style, they are all in essence the same glass barrier between inside and outside and public and private. It’s not something specific to life in a pandemic, but during this time it is especially relevant because for people staying mostly at home, our windows are potentially the only glimpse of the outside that we’ll see in a day. They divide our former lives and everything that we’d normally be doing outside of home from our current lives that have suspended many of those activities and digitized others. It’s easier to think about these private separate lives going on behind the windows I pass when there are fewer people out on the street. Normally the act of passing people as I walk is more engaging than what I can’t see in the closed-off apartment buildings, but now there is not a lot going on in the streets. It’s interesting to think I’m probably closer in distance to people behind the walls of the ground floors of buildings than the people I can see on the street, especially on the less busy streets that are particularly empty these days.

Bourbon Heat lets its customers know they are remaining open and taking the necessary precautions to protect against the virus.

A small grocery store is set up in hospitals to provide employees with essential items as their rigorous work schedules continue during the COVID-19 pandemic.

East Jefferson General Hospital shares an image of rubber duckies social distancing on social media and states that social distancing is working.

East Jefferson General Hospital thanks Walk-Ons Bistro at Clearview Mall donated and delivered food to Medical staff.

Plum Street Snoballs provided medical staff with a tasty treat during the COVID-19 pandemic.

The COVID-19 virus disrupts life, particularly our relationships with those we love. But, relationships are flexible and adapt to circumstance. Due to the stress the virus puts on her non-profit organization, my mom must leave earlier for work and cannot see my dad in the morning. So, in addition to leaving notes for my brothers and I, she leaves a few for him. Most of these notes offer him encouragement, as working remotely is a stressful change for most people. Next to her note, she leaves a coffee filter filled with coffee grinds, so he can make his cup of morning joe. Although my mom cannot do these things in person anymore, she still lets my dad know shes there for him. #FordhamUniversity #VART3030

Due to Covid-19 all schools have been required to do online school. This image represents students having to sit in their house all day doing school work and not being allowed near others

We went out for ice cream one night because it was the only thing left to do. I guess somebody sick was there too because they closed a week later.

Happy Birthday Andrew! I took a walk later that evening and saw some party lights coming from inside your house. I hope you had a good birthday. - your neighbor

In these trying times, I believe that my photo helps to tell a story of strength, family, unity, and unwavering faith. We’re both “essential” workers, however, family comes first and one of us has opted to stay home to homeschool our two sons. We are very appreciative of this extra, uninterrupted family time. Spending more time together, we’re getting to know each other all over again.

Disney Parks rarely close down for long periods in time. The pandemic has created a new first for the parks, as this is an odd sight to see.

Many of my favorite musicians kept us entertained by putting on FB live concerts. To repay the kindness we would tip them via Venmo or PayPal. This is one of the things that kept me sane and gave me a relief from the boredom and loneliness as I could comment to friends live during the show. It was really awesome!

A personal account.

Confined to their homes, residents of Greater Boston have been seeking solace in their own space by gardening more than ever. The town of Brookline began to pick up yard waste weeks earlier than it usually does as a result of popular demand, garden centers across the city are now delivering supplies and plants to customers, and at Mahoney's a popular garden center in the Boston subrub of Winchester, the line to pick up supplies was hundreds of feet long. Yet the space still felt empty, as pickups were carefully scheduled and masked customers observed physical distancing.

An analysis of super-spreader events to identify the major source of transmission

A person walks with a mask covering his face and an umbrella covering his body

A cashier at the supermarket takes a moment to take a picture. She stands smiling (I think) wearing a face shield and mask over her mouth.

Uber's gate is down and the parking lot is filled. Could Uber really be closed?

The gate is down, the sign tells us that the cleaners is closed. I should have picked up my clothes sooner....

The corner store gives directors where to go- the door is closed, go to the window. A plastic covering is placed between the merchant and the buyer

A sign and lock on the gate: The playground is closed

Merchants restocking their store while wearing masks.

A wall mural reminding people of the dangers of blue light.

Honduran Siblings crossing the street in the Bronx with their faces hid by masks.

A merchant sits in her second hand shop, looking out of the window with a mask covering her face.

This is a photo of my little sister and I embarking on a 'journey' to the grocery store. Before this strange time, running an errand was something I never gave any thought. It oddly feels like so long ago: I would just grab my car keys and head out the door. Now, I need to take multiple precautionary steps before I go in public. It is still near impossible to wrap my head around the fact that the steps one needs to take (finding something to cover your face, having gloves ready or at least having hand sanitizer accessible) could literally be a matter of life and death. Not to mention, one needs to wipe down all the items that are purchased and brought back home. Now that I calculate my every move, like limiting what I touch, I realize more and more how much I previously took the little things for granted. I miss being around my friends, playing board games and sharing pizza. These are lonely times, and I could only imagine what it is like for those who live alone. I am so lucky to have my family so I don't go totally insane. This time has brought opportunities for us to have long talks that we would not normally have. This stagnant time has allowed us to discuss topics we would not otherwise dive into: topics of faith, philosophy, community, and what it means to be human. #REL101

This image demonstrates an alternative way to honor the 2020 senior class that is unable to attend their graduation due to COVID-19. It shows how the pandemic is affecting traditional graduation ceremonies. This is at my local high school.

My mom has been gardening as a hobby for as long as I could remember. Since we're in quarantine together, I have been helping her with her gardening recently. It's been a good way to keep busy and not feel like we're locked in all day. The image attached is a sunflower that recently bloomed. #REL101

My mom has been gardening as a hobby for as long as I could remember. Since we've been in quarantine together, I've been spending more time with her helping her with her gardening. It's been a good way to keep busy and not feel like we're trapped inside all day. The image attached is a sunflower that recently bloomed. #REL101

Looking across the usually busy New Market Square during the first week of Kansas's "shelter-in-place" order issued on March 30, 2020, which closed all non-essential businesses in the state. *Aaron Peterka, Northeastern University

Personal account of a nurse

An electronic billboard at a shopping center along Maize Road in west Wichita, Kansas, encouraging citizens to weather the crisis and look forward to better days. The sign incorporates the city's emblem with a blue heart added in its center. *Aaron Peterka, Northeastern University

Picture of a family pet interrupting work.

This is an image of the signboard in front of the St. Lucas Evangelical Lutheran Church in St. Louis, MO. This announcement is notifying the community that the church holds their services online, and by not gathering for traditional services, they are helping to minimize the spread of COVID-19 while still engaging in their religious lives. #REL101

West Jefferson Medical Center staff celebrates as patient recovers from COVID-19.

A personal account

A personal account

This is the road to a family lake near Loris, South Carolina. Built over 60 years ago the road is very worn down and the brush has grown up all around it, but it is still there. I went out there this past week just to clear my head after this past week. During, the Covid-19 season that we are stuck in I have found it necessary to get out and away to a place that you can breathe at. No news, Facebook, or Instagram just you and nature. Trust me it is a good way to keep sane.

Danielle Gonzalez celebrated Easter with her family through a Zoom call. Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, she was unable to see her family for this holiday. Even though they couldn't be there physically, they still saw each other virtually and that was enough. The Zoom call was full of laughter and love!

This is a picture of me at work at the Rotllies Pizza and Pasta. I work mostly as a pizza cook and sometimes I dabble at working as a line cook. We have taken many extra precautions at work to help stop the spread. Everyone has a mask and gloves on. If you have never worked an oven with a facemask on let me tell you it is hot. We are working hard to keep the doors open and the support from our local community has been amazing. While we have been fortunate other businesses have fared far worse. There has been many businesses that cannot keep the doors open. Others have tried to open back up with the help of the government loans. These are strange times and we got to stick together.