Can we look at the bright side of Corona?

I know, I know. People are dying and I don’t aim to discard the severity of the situation.

But I’m quite enough to live into this constant psychotic world which, I believe, is about to do more harm to this planet than the Coronavirus itself (please, go read my previous post).

In the meantime, I’ve witnessed many beautiful things and I cannot help myself but to write it here. My mind is shifting while the planet is finally breathing.

When I was told that I would be staying at home for few weeks, I could not think anything else than « well, let’s get quiet for some times ». I was willing to take it as an opportunity to slow things down, sleep a lot more, read, paint and rest (I was not planning to catch the virus actually, which was a little mistake from my side).

After sleeping for weeks indeed (recovering from this hell of a thing), I decided to go out a little bit. Our government had the kindness to allow us one hour of physical exercise no further than 1 km from our home, helping us to release the excess of stress, fear and for some, the emerging wish to scream at their roommates and relatives (If you’re were not into domestic violence, it should not be an opportunity to start). And in the end, what’s worse: the coronavirus or a little phlebitis in the right leg?

Putting my sneakers and my light coat on, I go down the stairs and get out of the building after more than three weeks of staying at home (except for medical care appointements). The streets are empty. I decide to go on the left and make a loop around the building. In this street I would normally take by car, I realize that it’s fringed by cherry trees which are majestically blooming. The street is beautifully pink in the air and on the concrete as petals are falling on the ground, remaining intact as no car is running over them. I had never enjoyed this path like this before.

I feel a nice cool wind in my hair and I want to get it all in my damaged lungs, like it was a refreshing big glass of lemonade during a hot summer. I can feel the air. I’m conscious that this invisible thing is my source of life and I’m not gasping for it anymore. Walking down this dreamed alley, I hear the birds. What? Were there always so many birds here in this city? Come on. I look at the sky and on the top of the houses, hoping to see some of them. Who knows? Maybe they are talking to me. I cannot even spot one but my eyes are filled with this incredible blue color. No cloud in the sky. As amazing as it is, this path looks like a perfect suburban way, juxtaposed to typical city’s buildings.

As I’m alone in this street and no car is passing by, I decide to go down from the sidewalk and walk in the middle of the street. Trees are bending in reverence, accompanied by the birds singing, unrolling the pink carpet and showing me the way. I’m conscious of every step I make, every time my heels hit the ground and I feel every toe bearing me.

I reach this artery, habitually full of life, obviously dead today. I decide once again to walk in the middle of this big road with no fear of a car running over me and I go right, appealed by the big green trees I spot from here where I stand. I’ve never been so obsessed with nature.

On the ground, some stones were painted by, I believe, children, with written on it: « mean microbe, we will get you! ». It’s standing near some beautiful positive drawing expressing joy and love to strangers.

In the next following street, my attention get caught by a meowing. The white and black cat is standing on the window open, looking at me and speaking in a language I don’t talk. Does it feel the fear around? Are animals afraid too?

Many strangers are on their balcony, reading or tipping on their phone. Do they go out sometimes or do they spend their lockdown absorbed by Facebook, twitter and Instagram?

I follow my intuition and turn to the left, enjoying the sound of Edith Piaf getting out the windows of the first floor flat. Milord will remain in my mind until I come back home.

It’s snowing on me. I’m not kidding, what is that? I look up and see those white petals flying slowly above me, detaching from the white flower tree. Nature is taking over its rights and it’s beautiful.

Behind me, I spot 3 bottles of water cut in two, filled with earth, holding some baby plants. It reminds me that people are still existing inside, probably trying to find some activities to do to make time a bit less uncomfortable.

Walking back to my street, I try to see if I can spot read towels hanging from a window or a balcony. It has been commonly decided that this would be a call for help for isolated people who need something, such as elders who would need someone to run some errands for them. (Un)fortunately, there are not any.

I did not cross the path of anyone today. Is this really a threat to walk in the streets if we keep distances and wear a mask? Isn’t it worse to gather massively into supermarkets, sharing carts and putting our hands on the screen of the balance to weigh the vegetables? Once again, are we doing the right thing with this international lockdown?

Sometimes, I believe that this containment is the only response available to a lack of masks and test kits. Meanwhile, I have never seen my city like this and the quality of air being that good. At some point, this is a harsh way to witness what our world could be if we would make different choices. Have you seen the dolphins coming back to Sardinia? Have you seen the wild animals in the streets worldwide? Have you seen the clear canals in Venice? It’s like this virus is forcing us to do what we should have done decades ago.

Dear reader, take care.

4 thoughts on “Can we look at the bright side of Corona?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s