After April

Who called April a cruel month! In the chaos, people wander. But shouldn’t find pleasure in my own way? Taking a walk these days is the greatest happiness in my daily life. Go to bed earlier than usual and get up faster to walk quietly along the Hudson River.

The woman next door whom I met in the hallway told me to take the elevator down alone first. Thank you for her consideration. Eventually, she left for the Vermont cottage. Inside the condo, there is sign that many people have left. The elevator became my own. I just feel guarding the empty building with doorman.

Wearing sunglasses and gloves, a hat and a mask, I go out for a walk. I myself am appalled by my appearance in the mirror. I really appreciate the people who avoid me during the walk. It is not easy to walk away from people. Like dogs, I wander the path that is not even a path. Puppies walk to look to mingle with the same group, but I walk to avoid people.

I climb up a rock that is under a woodpecker-wailing tree. I stare across the river for a while at New Jersey, hoping my friends in New Jersey will bear the Coronavirus crisis well. If nature is the same as it used to be, we will meet again without any problems.

The pink magnolia blooms in disarray and seems to hold me and complain. Daffodils bow with their heads down as if to console me. The forsythia occasionally hides its bright yellow color as if people were cowering. Falling into a calm ecstasy under the widespread cherry blossoms, I forgets for a moment about the coronavirus. Suddenly a big man ran to the side. I was surprised as if the virus had stuck to me.

After a walk, I look out the window with a cup of coffee. There's no one. I look around for a long time. An older man than me passes without a mask. “You are brave!” Mumbling, shall I go shopping? I was going to be brave enough to leave, but I sit down again.

At 7 p.m., people open windows for a few minutes, scream and tap the tableware. A veranda roar that began in Italy spread to New York like a virus. People scream as if they have achieved prior communication. For the first time since I moved in, I waved to the people of my apartment across the street.

I also tap the big gong that was my father's favorite item. Jing Jing, Jing Jing. In those old days, it is as if the shaman who dressed colorful, primary-colored beat up brass gong to defeat evil. What if it's just like this situation, why don't we bring the shamans from our motherland and have a shamanic exorcism in the middle of Times Square with the feeling of beating the Coronavirus with the "energy" of thousands of years in the Far East?