Inside Outside

In lockdown my body was at home inside, but my mind was wishing it was outside. Now my body can go outside my mind has retreated inside, a psychological home, to withdraw so not to see the greater fears and ramifications of the pandemic but to notice the beautifully insignificant, into the safety and calm of the aesthetic, nostalgic and unreal, of light and shadow, of colour and form. It's like wanting to read fiction over non-fiction, fantasy or a good mystery rather than a real-life crime novel or a newspaper. Am I in denial and avoiding the difficult or moving towards what is important, starting to notice the real beauty of living?