The word Island has always held deep emotional resonance for me. I-land. Is-land. A word that conjures summer family vacations in the ’70s, romantic escapes in the ’80s, and the fantasy to disappear and start over somewhere, far away. Always looking for the Island that could change my life. That was pre-pandemic, before an entire year of travel bans, global health control, and the mass destruction of social, sexual, and artistic life. We were stuck, feeling miserable, which suddenly reinforced the appeal of the Island as not simply a dream but as a real option. And, by the way, we are all Islands. Wherever we are, our home is an Island. We are increasingly isolated, yet ultra-connected. We are alone while in permanent contact with each other. Solitude is not a romantic condition anymore; it’s a technological state of mind, the existential form of our increasingly digitalized life. I also…