Sunday, May 24, 2020

A cat lies on an uneven pile of boards in our backyard. I imagine that lying there would be uncomfortable. Wouldn’t it prefer the piece of smooth cardboard a few steps away? Maybe it thinks this is fun. Maybe this is what counts as excitement in its life. I see fresh posters on the bulletin board close to work. They stand out, red and yellow against the off-white shreds beneath them. They seem to say that a religious community is holding a raffle for the holiday later this week. I’m not entirely sure what is going on. Outside my office building, about a dozen massive cloth bags with handles sit by the curb, filled with smooth pebbles. During afternoon prayers, I see that some of the stones have been spread on top of the plastic runners in the court at the center of the building. Someone there tells us that they’re putting in a pool. He’s probably kidding. The space was left unfinished when the virus hit. This is the first work that I’ve seen done down there since then. On the way home, I see three identical shoe boxes lined up on a wall. The first two contain shoes. The third holds a cat. It could be the same one. It’s getting dark. It’s hard to tell.