A year from now, today’s consequences will be the very threads weaving our reality. In this world, how will people connect, work, consume, and unwind? What would we value? What would we search for? We asked some interesting people to imagine a year from now, and brought their predictions alive with stories. This is what we see.
Story — Priya kept scrolling. Her Instagram feed was an easy anecdote to a life spent in the ghostly post-pandemic limited occupancy of everything. Seeing beautiful places, food, and faces, she felt a faint but familiar rush of dopamine. But then, a word on the screen made her feel something real. Priya reread it. ‘Komari’ read the name of one particularly beautiful handloom dress; Yes, it really was the name of her dearly-fantasised-over holiday town where, every year, Priya spent a month in bliss. Every year except the last one lost to the lockdown, that is. Priya looked at the dress on screen. The sky-blue lines on crisp white cotton perfectly echoed her memory of paradise—like the photo on the fridge where an unrecognizably giddy version of herself surrounded by white foamy sea stretched arms open to a blue, blue sky. Priya’s heart ached remembering how she felt so intensely alive in that dreamy place, and how she can’t visit this year again.
“Hi. Is this from Komari?” she inquired. To her surprise, a reply came instantly.
“Hello! Yes. Sourced from Komari, Sri Lanka”.
So weird, Priya thought. Her personal paradise across the world was seeping into her Bristol life through the cracks of a portal. “Do you ship to the UK?”, she asked.
“Yes”, came the reply.
In the next two weeks, anything that came close to the blue of those skies—like her 2kg dumbbell, or the foil of Waitrose double cream —would taunt Priya’s saudade for paradise. When the dress arrived, she ran up the stairs with the box, two steps at a time and forgetting to sanitize. Maybe it was the exceptionally awful work day, the chronic pandemic-induced nostalgia, or something of paradise actually being woven into the air between the threads—but, a long lost place in Priya broke open as she slipped on the dress; The memories of how crab curry tasted, coconut palms rustled, and bath-water-warm sea surrounded came flooding out. And just like that, through something made at the hands of someone from that place, Priya returned to her promised land. — End