We wander the ghostly streets of our emptied town, town not really empty or ghostly but full of hiding bodies, each with its possessing spirit, its pair of eyes, watching behind curtains but not watching us, watching the screens, the phones, the tablets, the TVs, the computers, waving to relatives, undressing for lovers, delivering whatever comfort or company the face and voice can provide without touch, without even the touch of the vocal cords resonating in shared air, colliding with the skin, the tympanum, reverberating maybe with skin, a hand touching an arm, a shoulder, a cheek, lips, the teeth.