15 minutes from now

I spent four weeks in Germany in late 2021, and I did things that I hadn’t done in a long time. My return to Berlin marked, somehow, a return to normality. Despite being fully vaccinated since the end of July, I only took small steps in the previous months. However, this changed when I returned to Berlin. It’s as if everything was accelerated -and I enjoyed it. But it also meant something more: more self-testing against the goddamn virus. And that’s where I first thought of the 15 minutes from now concept.

I kept protecting myself for the past two years: I avoided crowded places and stayed away from things I loved. But, now, it was time for a (kind of) proper way of living. After limiting everything for a long time, I decided that it was time to dive into life again. But, of course, the risk of infection was still there. And more than this bloody virus, I was always more scared of infecting others and of neverending quarantines.

It was actually the horrible November weather of Berlin that showed me the way. The days were short, cloudy, and temperatures dropped to zero. As a result, there was no way to spend time outside -and as you might remember, I seriously hate rain. That said, all I could do was spend time either at home or inside places frequented by people. And I chose, carefully, the latter.

Now, to give you a better impression, here are some of the things I did while in Germany. First of all, I took a three-hour flight to Berlin. Then, I used public transport a lot, which I avoided doing for a long time. Moreover, I dined indoors and went to cafes; I often went to the cinema and visited friends’ homes. Last but not least, I traveled by train to Hannover and Hamburg. I saw art exhibitions and stayed in hotels. In general, I did everything I did until early 2020, and the only different thing was wearing an ffp2 mask.

And I self-tested myself regularly.

15 minutes from now: what does it mean?

Of course, when you self-test yourself against Covid-19, there’s a 15-minutes period that anxiety can be intense. But, I knew that I didn’t do any irrational things. I didn’t stop taking the whole situation seriously, and I kept protecting myself. And yet, there was always a what if. What if I went somewhere and someone was infected? Or, what if I transmitted the virus?

These were always the recurring thoughts while waiting for the self-test result. It takes fifteen minutes until you see if you’re negative, and these fifteen minutes were usually stressful. You only want to see the upper mark painted black. You want to be negative. And for that, you have to wait.

If you have followed this blog for a while, you probably know that I have a thing for polaroids. For the past two years and a half, I have run the Polaroid Diaries as a side-project. I make sure I have a polaroid camera with me wherever I go. I use them as travel cameras, and instant film is fascinating and challenging. You can see the photo printed in front of you.

Now, the moment I decided to self-test myself in Germany for the first time, I had next to me the SX-70. And there I thought: “Uhm, there’s something common between polaroids and Covid-19 self-tests. They both need 15 minutes to develop.” It’s only after 15 minutes that you can see if you’re negative on the coronavirus. And at the same time, you have to wait fifteen minutes to see a fully developed polaroid.

This bizarre thought, oddly enough, motivated me and made me think. What if I shot a polaroid every time I self-tested myself for Covid? The goal was to distract me and make these fifteen minutes less anxious. Instead of staring at the test cassette for a quarter of an hour, I could instead look at the development of a polaroid photo. Exactly like in the test’s cassette, I’d see the dark lines developing first.

And then, I’d hope for the best in both cases.

The ritual of self-testing

Soon, the ritual became clear. Before opening the self-test kit, I’d search for an interesting polaroid composition. This time, it wasn’t that much about the beauty of the photo itself. Instead, it was all about distracting me for these long fifteen minutes. Quite often, the light was not adequate. My polaroid was destined to be a failure. And yet, this was not the point.

After deciding on what to shoot, I’d open the kit. I performed the test, spilled the three drops in the dedicated cassette slot, and then left it on the table. Then, excited as I was, I’d pick the SX-70, and I’d shoot the polaroid. Afterward, I’d place it next to the test cassette, and I’d wait for the results.

It worked every single time. Even though the important thing was the test, I kept starring at the polaroid’s development. I won’t lie: most of the photos were average. I didn’t have time to check the light or be more thoughtful. But it didn’t matter that much: it was all about handling anxiety -and soon, these photos became more important than they really were.

And I had a name for that bizarre concept. Due to that critical quarter of the hour, I called it 15 minutes from now. I didn’t know if the phrase referred to something else. All I needed was a name for that ritual.

15 minutes from now: what I learned

I performed self-tests in every place I visited. And I also did a couple of them while being in Berlin. A day or two after attending something that felt risky -be it a cinema or a restaurant, gosh- I tested myself, and I shot polaroids. Those fifteen minutes of waiting became smoother as the weeks went by.

However, the saddest part was that I stepped away from my beloved in-between places. In the middle of nowhere and nothingness, all these places became less relevant the past two years. The zeitgeist is connected to emotional misery, but at least I could see myself returning closer to where I want to be.

For a dedicated hodophile like myself, this distance from everything during the pandemic was enough reason for feeling depressed. And yet, after returning slowly to normality, this combination of polaroids and self-tests somehow narrates a story of a personal victory. I’m not where I once was, and nothing is already what it used to be.

But following the path towards the things I always enjoyed doesn’t feel anymore like a path. Right now, it feels like a highway paved with polaroids.

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Last Updated on December 18, 2021 by George Pavlopoulos