The purpose of bliss

In November 2020, days before the American presidential election, my husband Dave travelled to Philadelphia to knock on doors for Joe Biden. That he went was no small feat: the US was in the grip of COVID-19; I was in the mid-stages of pregnancy and, while he was gone, was left alone in New York; and the atmosphere in the country was tense. Donald Trump - sensing that his time might be up - was becoming increasingly belligerent. Added to this, Dave and a band of his friends would be door stepping in some of the most dangerous and poverty-stricken parts of the city.

Despite the risks, Dave felt like it mattered. Pennsylvania was a swing state. Even a few thousand votes cast in the last few hours could make a difference. When I travelled to meet him the day of the election, he was buzzing in a way I hadn’t seen since the onset of the pandemic. “I feel so alive,” he told me, adding that, after months of isolation, it felt