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“Quarantine Diaries,” by David Garyan (Day 37)


Quarantine Diaries – Day 37 April 20th, 2020

Trento, Italy

Some Day


The clouds have come again in April, and again they've brought their unwanted guests along. All the rooms darken. They're grey walls that used to be white.

Now they've all been freshly repainted in grey. And it's funny how no one remembers how chipped the space looked before. And it's strange to observe how bright the gloom is right now. Everything outside turns uncertain— like a match where one team agrees to lose, but no one knows which side that must be. Like sheep without shepherds, people are free to do whatever the world will decide. What are we, except captives of humanity? A raindrop falls with the freedom of oceans, but the oceans exist in a prison of water. Sparks travel with the boldness of fire, but fire itself is trapped in flames. No snowflake might be the same, but snow is always a hostage of winter. Hurricanes are stronger than drafts, but no wind ever escaped from air. People are raindrops, sparks, snowflakes, and hurricanes, but their bodies are still oceans, wildfires, and avalanches. Don’t say there’s joy if the clouds tell me otherwise; don’t say there’s warmth if the flames have gone out; don’t pray like a sailor whose ship the wind has forsaken. Nothing occurs at the wrong time unless you want to avoid living— someday I’ll have the strength ... the strength not to blame water for causing our floods. Someday.

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