Item
Challenge of the Mundane
Title (Dublin Core)
Challenge of the Mundane
Description (Dublin Core)
Description of walking trails being more crowded during the COVID-19 pandemic.
Date (Dublin Core)
Creator (Dublin Core)
Contributor (Dublin Core)
Type (Dublin Core)
Text
Controlled Vocabulary (Dublin Core)
Curator's Tags (Omeka Classic)
Curatorial Notes (Dublin Core)
Date Submitted (Dublin Core)
04/11/2020
Date Modified (Dublin Core)
10/22/2020
10/12/2021
Date Created (Dublin Core)
03/28/2020
Text (Omeka Classic)
The pandemic lockdown has paradoxically forced people out. Walking trails are now more crowded than the suburban streets. Going for a walk itself is more or less a challenge, having to dodge fellow walkers, joggers and cyclists at every corner; and I have never been more petrified at the sight of a fellow human being like now. Awkward encounters - each eyeing the other, determining the move and which way to dodge; embarrassing, seemingly disrespectful and at times comical as we pass each other with eyes fixed to the ground and breath held. Sliding into the nature strip or crossing hurriedly to the opposite pavement has become second nature to me at the sight of another human. Some are clearly less mindful of social distancing and they make me nervous and annoyed. Nevertheless, I'm discovering new streets, interesting architecture, vegetations – the upside of my regular suburban sojourns.
Today I take the beloved trail close to my home, reach up to the cricket grounds and walk into its deserted carpark. A dark rain cloud looms in the horizon. A tiny black bird lies dead right in the middle of the tract. An elbow to the pedestrian crossing button on my way back. Reaching home, heading straight to wash my hands for the umpteenth time of the day, I lather the soap while slowly singing 'Happy Birthday'! 'To...o...o..o you..u.uuu...; 20 seconds of hand washing done. Voila!
Today I take the beloved trail close to my home, reach up to the cricket grounds and walk into its deserted carpark. A dark rain cloud looms in the horizon. A tiny black bird lies dead right in the middle of the tract. An elbow to the pedestrian crossing button on my way back. Reaching home, heading straight to wash my hands for the umpteenth time of the day, I lather the soap while slowly singing 'Happy Birthday'! 'To...o...o..o you..u.uuu...; 20 seconds of hand washing done. Voila!
Accrual Method (Dublin Core)
1709