How has the novel coronavirus changed your life? Show us in a picture.
That is the assignment we gave to the more than 600 photographers who work with Everyday Projects — contributing to Instagram accounts from countries in Asia, Africa, Central and South America, North America and Europe.
Their mission is "to challenge stereotypes that distort our understanding of the world."
In this case, they found that parts of their lives had been altered dramatically. But they also found solace in showing how ordinary activities could still go on — and give a sense of comfort.
The images they submitted to NPR are a visual testament to the unforeseeable changes that came in 2020 as this virus swept the globe, triggering a pandemic that has altered the way we all live.
Here are images submitted to NPR for this project. They are pictures of uncertainty and of sorrow, but also of joy and hope, which have not been destroyed even in this most difficult of times.
Copyright 2023 NPR. To see more, visit https://www.npr.org.
My wife, Priscila, drinks gin and tonic and applies a beauty mask in her bathroom. It's important to still enjoy and take care of ourselves. April 25, 2020. Brasilia, Brazil.
Samba artist Teresa Cristina sings during a daily Instagram live. We used to go to samba circles in the street every week to be together, now we go to samba online. It's certainly not the same but still feels intimate. Despite everything, it's still possible to be together in this other realm sharing music that we love. May 19, 2020. Rio de Janeiro.
My 1-year-old son likes to experience everything. While I was mopping the floor on Day 12 of the lockdown, he came forward to take the mop from me. My husband and I have been struggling to find a balance during the lockdown. We take turns to work, cook, do chores and look after our baby. April 3, 2010, Delhi, India.
The wife of the assistant pastor at Iglesia La Luz De Cristo prays at the Easter service, which was webcast and included Hector, a COVID-19 survivor. Now walking through my neighborhood is mainly quiet. The people haven't disappeared; they've just changed. April 12, 2020. Chelsea, Mass.
A soldier wears gloves to protect against the coronavirus on an army patrol of the city during the government-mandated curfew. March 26, 2020, Cali, Colombia.
Jos Leal dos Santos, 53, sells goods on the street at Comercio, a district that before the coronavirus was a busy place of commerce. He says: "I have worked here for 14 years. I sell snacks and drinks on the streets. I'm always at that [place] but the sales are stopped." May 9, 2020. Salvador de Bahia, Brazil.
Huzaif, who's 12, and his friend, Danish, look out of an opening of a gate at the martyr's cemetery. During the lockdown, they often come here to spend time and have fun. Most schools have been closed in Kashmir because of the political situation since August 2019. May 18, 2020. Baramulla, North Kashmir.
My wife, Marisol Doyle, brings dinner tacos to the front door of our tiny guesthouse, where I was self-quarantining. Marisol would deliver fresh food as often as she could, and we would eat meals together on FaceTime. March 26, 2020, Cleveland, Miss.
An unidentified couple seal their marriage with a kiss at their drive-through wedding ceremony at the Family and Civil courthouse. Drive-through wedding ceremonies were offered to couples unable to marry traditionally because of the pandemic. May 14, 2020. Gainesville, Fla.
My father during a videoconference with my brother. The very first thing that changed since the pandemic started is how we interact with other people, and how 6 feet of social distance for safety is the "new normal." April 16, 2020. Quito, Ecuador.
No more late night running due to the curfew. The sky has been replaced with a concrete roof. I just realized that I have not seen the sunset or the twilight glow for I don't even know how many days. April 14, 2020, Cairo.
Jose celebrates his 39th birthday with his family. Because of the lockdown, many people born in March and April had to make different arrangements for this year's celebration. Jose's celebration was restricted to members of his nuclear family. Other friends and family sent regards via a video that his wife and sister put together. April 30, 2020. Madrid.
My father, George Bronstein, celebrating his 100th birthday at his home last year. March 10, 2019. East Falmouth, Mass.
Rabbi Alias Lieberman stands alone by the grave of my father, George Bronstein, in the Baker Street Jewish cemetery. Our family was prohibited from having any kind of gathering at the grave; we were forced to stay in our vehicles. This photo was taken from my rental car. My father passed away of natural causes at age 101 at his home in Cape Cod. April 2, 2020. Boston, Massachusetts.
Maintenance and security staff, whose work is often unnoticed and unappreciated, are risking their lives to ensure a safe and healthy environment for all of us. I took this image as one of the workers fumigated the park, which is usually busy at this time of the evening with residents exercising and doing yoga. April 24, 2020. Delhi, India.
Cristiane Silva takes her dogs for a walk. As a freelance photojournalist, I work much of the time on the street, with significant amount of interaction with other people. After two months at home, things have changed drastically. April 6, 2020. Rio de Janeiro.
My niece, Nisime, in her hiding place — my parents' closet. She is my muse during the quarantine days. April 3, 2020. Tbilisi, Georgia
"I'm glad we have time together. A lot of time," said my husband, pictured here working late at night in our apartment. He said this as we fell asleep that same night. It's true usually I am on the road most of the year, and it's really special to have so much time together. It makes being stuck inside so much more enjoyable. April 7, 2020, Istanbul.
I streamed a press conference given by President Trump in our backyard guesthouse where I was self-quarantining. During quarantine, I would try and watch the press conferences on a daily basis. I think his interactions with the media were historic and will be analyzed years from now when we examine America's response to the virus. March 26, 2020, Cleveland, Miss.
What has changed the most in my life is the lack of personal contact with family members, some of whom are in a high-risk group due to age or health history. The lack of personal contact is also reflected in my photographic work. Social isolation made me distance myself from people, who are often the center of my stories. April 24, 2020, São Paulo, Brazil.
A quarantined teenager. May 21, 2020. Castro Valley, Calif.
Mask, gloves, a plastic shield and my hat. Like my shoes, they're now what I wear. March 23, 2020, Tbilisi, Georgia.