This composition is called: “Perdition.” In the archaic sense, Perdition means Loss. 

Today, Perdition implies a soundscape of seemingly unending misery, turmoil, destruction, deprivation. 

Can’t breathe. Waiting, as Gabriel Garcia Marquez once implied, for the world to be blown away by a fierce wind, in silent desperation. It has been 100 days of social isolation. 
And yes, there is loss. Loss due to death by disease. Loss due to the mounting deaths of a state-encouraged violence. Loss of the freedom to breathe freely in the open air — left gasping for breath whether due to failure of lungs, or inability to breathe properly through a facemask, or as a result of sky-rocketing anxiety. Loss of breath because
one’s breath has been actively taken away. 

The end of civility's norms, of civilianism, of society. Everything familiar has ground to a halt, nothing is happening — other than the dying...bodies piling in mobile morgues…next to stockpiles of toilet tissue and hand sanitizer…
But not just the implicit, inherent, and implied sense of panic. With humanity there is sometimes an underlying hope. 

Of snatching recovery from the maw of death. Of finding new ways to mitigate or incorporate turmoil and deprivation,  whether that be via simul-watches of Netflix (for those lucky enough to have robust internet and the appropriate 
accounts)...

….Or: black-market hair salons.
The soundscape of Perdition is the whole human scale of betrayal and loss, set alongside the ridiculous, the resilient,  and the unstoppable.