I’m still on the prowl for big boxes of tissue, so went out to find them.
I found even more. My lovely framing place, a small storefront, has re-opened. I’m so glad. And a nearby veterinarian has opened again, with a twist. He (or she) has set chairs out on the sidewalk curb where his clients and their owners — around ten in number — await attention.
Further along 72nd Street, a select group of…what should I call them? Jolly vagabonds, yes, have established an encampment also on the curb, with a boom box blaring some 70s rock hits. One man, only half clad, was grinning and dancing. Another one was lying on the pavement next to a not-yet-open shop.
Then a carefully spaced long line of hopeful Trader Joe shoppers, waiting to enter my idea of shopping Hades in order to save maybe $.29 on a bunch of scallions.
There are more people walking (and wearing masks), more cars traveling, more action everywhere. It’s like a garden frozen in early spring last week, and blooming into late spring this week. Although (see above) the foliage is not entirely beauteous.
I’m reading a new biography of Galileo, so…Eppur si muove. (Which, if he did say it, I doubt it was when he rose from kneeling and confessing to being a heretic.)