Here will we be in six months, a year, 10 years from now? I lie awake at night wondering what the future holds for my loved ones. My vulnerable friends and relatives. I wonder what will happen to my job, even though I’m one of the lucky ones: I get good sick pay and can work remotely. I am writing this from the Curacao, where I still have self-employed friends who are staring down the barrel of months without pay, friends who have already lost jobs.