“I’M BLINDED by the white of the page, have nothing to write. I stand in the doorway to the studio and the thought of making an image fills me with the dread of responsibility, as if I had to tend to a roomful of dying elderly, of disabled children. I go for a drive and imagine collisions at every intersection, so I park and get on a bus. I stand, refuse to sit down. There are germs on the seats.”