Хроники самоизоляции: «Так откуда взялась печаль» (En)

That was one of those days, which was filled with subtle and unprovoked sadness. We went on our usual walk and chose the route we somehow had been avoiding for many weeks: it was as empty as the rest of them. On Norfolk Street a man in a cotton mask checked his greyhound, a feeble and willowy dog in a muzzle, with a sign of concern: the dog was shivering a bit and seemingly experiencing issues with walking. The man looked over the dog as carefully as one could imagine, and the dog put his face on the man’s ellbow. That was truly painful to watch, and we turned away, speeding up our steps.

On Fitzroy Street, by the Grafton Centre and opposite to Waitrose (why is it always a Waitrose?) a middle-aged man was busking: he was playing classical guitar beautifully — I don’t know if it was something famous, like Tárrega or Segovia—but I loved the sound. People in the queue to the shop (the usual “one-in one-out” thing) also listened to the street musician, and a black man in a uniform, a supermarket guard, chatted to him cheerfully during the breaks, keeping social distancing.

Near the Blue Moon pub (they had salsa evenings on certain weekdays in the past) a young woman was talking emotionally on her phone: she smiled, then laughed, then nodded, then asked about something. While passing her by, I noticed that she didn’t have a mobile phone and neither did she carry any Bluetooth hands-free device. She was having a conversation with an imaginary Someone, a ghost, or an alter ego.

On the turn to Gwydir Street a family of three, an Indian lady with two little girls, talked to an old man through the half closed window: I quickly spotted a resemblance. Presumably, a daughter was visiting her father at a distance, since they couldn’t meet up due to the stricter quarantine rules for the elderly. The old man smiled to his family and it looked like he desperately wanted to hug them all.

On Rustat Road I learned that one of the Stranglers people, Dave Greenfield, died from Covid-19. I found “Golden Brown” on my phone, and it put me into a weird half-dreamy mood immediately: two teens approached us, and one of them gave us a look of mild curiosity: he heard the melody. Good, I thought, that’s good: you’ll like them, son, maybe, just maybe a bit later.