Since we still have a slightly obscure right for the “one exercise per day” thing (is it going to be cancelled soon? who knows), yesterday we decided not to go for shopping (we are more or less good with everything for the moment), but to take a walk somewhere instead. So, we went to the park, which is slightly further away from us, and on the way there we met (from a reasonable distance, of course) two or three people only— all with dogs, all with a faint smile on their faces.
At first glance the park seemed to be empty, but, when we went in (L. opened the old-fashioned gate with an illusion of a lock), we noticed people far away—yet again, two walked their dogs, one female was doing yoga on her own. But since they all were so distant, it felt like nobody was there.
On one of the park paths my eye caught a young man: he leaned somewhat lifelessly on the parallel bars, didn’t do any particular exercise; at first I thought that he was drunk, but he turned his head to us and it looked like he just stared into the void. Maybe he was actually drunk and stared into the void simultaneously, I don’t know.
The most bittersweet thing is that I don’t remember so many lovely, warm, dry and sunny days in a row in Cambridge: as if you don’t expect the day to be wonderful, it ironically gets even better. How is this even possible? When you are at home, trying to work and concentrate, it feels like mild but fairly unpleasant torture.
But to catch a breath of fresh air was amazing and is feeling now like the most courageous adventure of the day.
No comments :
Post a Comment