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A Message of Hope: Grey, White, Blue and Still

Below is a short narrative from my perspective when the pandemic first began and we were in lockdown.

A Message of Hope: Grey, White, Blue and Still

Written By Erica Cho

I sit in my balcony, high above everything else and watch the world layed out before me. It is morning so the air is still cold. The biting wind finds the exposed skin of my ankles and grabs a hold of it. I quickly reach down to pull the edges of my pajama bottoms down to my slippers. I look back up and my eyes wander over to the furthest of the edge of the world as I can see. The sky is grey, white, blue and still. The sea spread out into most of the horizon, usually busy with workers, ships, life is now silent and empty. Looking closer near me, the streets, shops, other buildings, all empty. All so quiet, cold, alone. No people walking, chatting, laughing, no cars grumbling by, no kids with backpacks walking to school. It all feels so grey, white, blue and still. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I open my eyes, and I see something different. I see a woman and a man sitting together on their balcony from the apartment beside me, munching on their breakfasts, a couple of chuckles slip out from their conversation. They look like they’re really enjoying eachothers company. I look down at the streets again and I see a little girl, her dad and their dog on a walk. The little girl is skipping ahead and the dog pulls on his leash to keep up with her. She stops and takes a moment to look at a flower growing in between the edges of the sidewalk. The dog takes a whiff, copying her like a young child copying his older sibling. Then the tiny flower is not so interesting anymorae and the little girl and the dog move on. The dad just follows along, smiling, enjoying the moment, then they disappear, off to a different street. The sound of birds and the sound of brushing trees replace the loud noises of construction and polluting machinery. Faint music, dancing out the window of another person’s home also reaches my ears. The warm, mouthwatering smell of butter and pancakes sneak up from the home of the people living on the floor below me. The sea is cleaner and bluer than ever, sparkling from the light bouncing off its waves. The air is not cold anymore, no, it’s refreshing. It fills my lungs and to the tip of my fingers as I take a deep breath in. The world is not empty, quiet, or alone. It's just a different kind of full, different kind of sound, and different kind of connection. The sky is still grey, white, blue and still. But the sun is up there too.


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