You are here.
What remains of what was
matters less and less as
distance replaces the time
between then and this.
That was then.
This is now.
original content and images ©j.g. lewis
A thought du jour, my daily breath includes collected and conceived observations, questions of life, fortune cookie philosophies, reminders, messages of peace and simplicity, unsolicited advice, inspirations, quotes and words that got me thinking. They may get you thinking too . . .
What has been heard, what has been said, after 24 or 27 months give or take? More or less, what was said (even wished) was mainly, and above all else, that we wanted things to return to normal.
We were longing for the everyday day-to-day, the regular way, sort of; or at least, some semblance of such. We wanted, we said, to be with people again, doing the things we usually did.
We wanted to see smiles, again, on stranger’s faces, we said from behind our masks and wanting so much for our lips to be read as much as our expressions of joy. Or reality. Or anything other than what it was for the 26 or 25 months of what came to be.
We weren’t asking for much, really, or nothing any more spectacular than what life grants us on any given day. We wanted the ordinary, if nothing else.
What we have known is not over. How we are living, coping, or struggling, is not the same as it was eight months, or 11 months, back (or 25 or 23). It was a long time, and longer still will be this shadow of a virus that has hung over us (more than a footnote, and still not quite a chapter) in this never-ending story.
What was, or what is, close to some kind of normal, feels closer now. Dare we say it? We wished it, didn’t we, and here we are now more than two years later, finally gathering in parks and parades, galleries, shopping malls, and back at the office.
Masked or unmasked, we might not be as close as we were before, but we are working on it. Aren’t we? Can’t we now see, or hear and experience life, a little bit like we did before?
Yes, we want more, but right now this is as good as it gets for those of us still cautious, yet relieved, that we are here to see what’s going on.
It is, or seems to be, a return to the usual, the normal, and the everyday ways. For some of us it will never happen, for many of us it will never be, but for all of us there is a new (or another) opportunity for ordinary.
The ordinary: after all we have been through, that may even be better than it sounds.
I'm like a pencil;
Still I write.
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
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I forgive you; powerful words.
The sign on the outside of an Italian restaurant across the street from my downtown Toronto condo shook me with its honesty.
Apparently, in the dark hours over one of the past couple of nights, someone decided to break the windows of this small Italian kitchen.
It was just another act of senseless vandalism.
The space now secured by plywood, the restaurant owner took a marker and spelled out his frustrations:
To the guy who thought it would be
cool to break my windows the other night
I’m not sure what you are gong through maybe
you’re feeling down and out or you were just
having a bad day. I forgive you. We are all struggling
I’ve questioned everything the past few months. You are
not alone. We are all in this together.
Love & peace #stay strong
The restaurateur is a guy just trying to make a buck, just a guy trying to survive or make his way through these pandemic days.
For months, restaurants in Toronto have only been open for take-out and delivery. Recently patio service was allowed, but with distance restrictions. On Friday, indoor seating will open up with health and space restrictions.
Some of these places have been struggling for more than four months while others have not bothered to open or have simply given up.
Who can blame them?
Wherever you are, you know what these past few months have been like. Whether mom and pop operations, huge corporate franchises, or street corner coffee stops, entire organizations are faltering.
Nobody, anywhere, has any idea just how bad the economic fallout from this virus will be (globally, nationally, or locally), but we know it’s not a pretty picture and it will take a long time before it gets better.
What we can do is support the businesses we can, when we can.
I know where I’ll be ordering my pasta this Friday night.
Fusaro’s on Richmond St. East.