Saturday, April 18, 2020

The Heart of the City is silent. I’m not surprised. All of its shops are closed on the Sabbath. Still, small groups of people usually sit around or drift through the mall’s open space. Today, I only see one person at a time. A round man with a surgical mask wanders past a broken set of escalators. A boy with a helmet on a foot-powered scooter keeps one hand on a wall to keep from falling. A solitary pigeon feasts on a piece of bread that it has found. A child’s pink tricycle sits alone by the ledge where free newspapers appear on Fridays. I haven’t looked at one of those in a while. I wonder if the loss of advertising is hitting them as badly as the newspapers in the States. I hear almost-melodic screaming from the square outside the Great Synagogue across the street. I imagine that children are exploring the echoes of the empty outdoor spaces. As I get closer, I see a single boy lying on the ground, having a meltdown. A man stands next to him, watching patiently until it passes. I continue filming signs and buildings on the street. I don’t photograph the child, but I do get a good recording of his keening. I might be able to use the sound.