Dark clouds mass on the horizon and they slowly cover the bright sky. The world sinks into a grey thin atmosphere. At five thirty I go for my normal walk. After crossing the street, I see a man walking towards me. He wears a clean dark blue coverall, his hair like a bird’s nest. His behaviour is different from the first time we met two days ago. At that time he wore the same coverall but it was dirty and he dragged his right leg, sometimes uttering a groan. I feel an incredible sense of relief to know that he is not homeless for there is nothing worse than having no place to stay in the time of Covid-19. I walk along the Don river, trying to listen to the birdsong which is swallowed into the fierce wind and reeling trees. Today I don’t have a chance to enjoy the tranquility of a peaceful walk. Howling wind continues beating trees in different directions as if it is taking revenge on silent days. Crack! I turn my head to the noise but don’t know the exact direction to search for it. Then I find some dead trees hidden among vibrant ones which makes me afraid that they might fall. But I keep calm and continue my walk.
I came to Aberdeen in summer when the river wore a green coat which gave me a special feeling every time my mind was in chaos. Then autumn arrived with its distinguished colours showing off their beauty. Then winter passed by and left behind it the colour of emptiness and loneliness. I still stroll along this river no matter what season. I stand immobile, wondering how this beech, which fell in winter and occupied more than half of the width of the river with its huge roots out of the ground, still manages to wear new bright leaves in spring. Its strong desire for life inspires me to take a deep breath and stride in the chaos of nature. After one hour walking alone through reeling trees, I return to my house with my lungs filled with fresh air. Then I make a cup of black tea, sit by the window and listen to my favourite song She Sung by Elvis Costello. From this place, I can see people walking along the pavement and cars moving along the street. Dancing clouds are moving along the sky; sometimes seagulls soar, their wings trying to defeat the strong wind.
“So, week in, week out, the prisoners of the plague struggled along as best they could.” I continue reading The Plague by Camus, and my eyes fix on this sentence for a long time. How long have I been in quarantine? Four weeks or more than that? I forget days or which month. I forget to count.
This is a strange year for anyone. Instead of going out to discover a new country, I stay in a room of my own to travel through books and the Internet and try to calm myself from craving. This is an invisible war by which humans try to overcome their sorrow. I close the book which told a history of humanity in fiction but it seems to me that I am experiencing the plague in the name of Covid-19. Whatever happens, I can’t give up my hope. This pandemic gives me only more inspiration for my writing. I am a lucky person who found out my dream and have been chasing it with all my heart, to love and be loved. I am a lucky person who already knew the feeling of escaping from death on my bicycle on a pass in Kyrgyzstan a long time ago. After that unforgettable moment I know for sure that I must have a happy life. Covid-19 poses a serious threat to anybody but I’m one of those lucky people who still have a chance to enjoy this peaceful sunset. Nothing can defeat humans, even this virus, for humans are defeated in visible and invisible wars only if they lose hope. There is a future in the present and the present is the future of the past.
There is hope when I can see that dark clouds are being washed off to lighten the blue sky. My eyes linger on the trees down the pavement which were only skeletons, but now they already wear new green leaves. Green is a mixture of blue and yellow. The first means both sadness and hope whilst the latter is freshness and cowardice. Hope saves us in the moment of sorrow. Freshness irritates a coward which urges him to give up or conquer it. It’s just like yin and yang which can’t separate from each other. I pondered why the British express their jealousy by saying they are green with envy. Now I realise that I am green with envy by looking at green trees. They are fresh, young and dance in a reassuring way which lifts my dashed spirits. By looking at them, I know that green is my favourite colour which brings me hope and tranquility.