Plague Journal, Breakout
The word, “breakout,” conveys the connotation of an extreme, threatening circumstance. The stakes are high. An attempt is made by force to breach the encirclement, to achieve freedom of movement. I simply want to write about our very first experience of eating-out, dining at a restaurant after receiving our second Moderna covid shot. This was our breakout!
The experience was delightful and almost surreal. The sensation was as if I were in a foreign country, remembering a language that I had not heard or used for a long time. We found ourselves dining in a room with others, the aromas emanating from the kitchen, observing the efficient movement of the wait-staff, smiles and warm greetings from two waitstaff who have served us many times in months past, etc. We enjoyed every minute I am sure because we have been isolated from nearly all public social experiences for over a year. How did it feel to move almost with no thought of being struck down by a deadly illness?
I was fascinated by the large cold glass of coke placed on the table top before me. The bubbles of carbonation rising to the top symbolized that life is lived with others. The plate of enchiladas, served steaming with spicy aroma caught my eye as worthy of any artist. Under direction of the right individual is not a kitchen a place of creation?
After finishing our meal, we departed to walk around Batavia for a while. We strolled by the Bulldog sculpture outside of the town hall. The figure is an apt symbol of the town in which we live. Civilization is a long process, a breakout of sorts really. The wild and untamed thrust of Nature is domesticated, progressively seduced to become less dangerous. The bulldog, a companion and company for children, has the wolf for its ancestor.
A photo of us, our shadows anyway, as we crossed the “Peace Bridge” which spans the Fox River in downtown Batavia.
2 thoughts on “Plague Journal, Breakout”
I like the bridge photo Jerry, and the thoughts that go into your work.
Thank you. You also have spent much time developing a practiced eye for the camera lens.
Do we not feel a moment of awe when time and circumstance are propitious for a photo that tells a story? That seems eminently spiritual to me.