I wrote the first instalment of The Quiet Sun during the early days of the pandemic, when none of us knew the enormity of the changes we would all experience. This new comic is a reflection on the prolonged anxiety and insecurity of a year of change, isolation and loss.

Some of us came up with new innovative ways to create and connect. Some of us came up with the perfect way to fold the couch blanket to cradle a bowl of chips. It seems that no matter how we spent the past year, it has felt especially easy to find reasons to be critical of yourself. I've been trying to not stress if I don't reply to an email right away, or if I don't sweep the floor that often. It doesn't feel like procrastination when all of the individual days blur into one long one.

It has been a hard year to mourn, and an even harder year to motivate. Last spring I was a stand-up comic who worked at an art gallery. Life looks so fundamentally different now, but it hasn't been all bad: I haven't had to open a single Excel document in a year. That feels like a success.

I've never been a fan of change. I like the predictability of a fully booked calendar — there's no room for spontaneity or overthinking if you're busy from sun-up to sun-down. These days, I'm feeling more open to it.