The city stopped. The streets were empty. Those who could, fled. Those who stayed locked themselves in their homes. Tourists and visitors (65 million a year) disappeared. Restaurants, shops, and theaters closed. The stock exchange closed the trading floor. Business failed. The subway no longer ran 24 hours a day. The streets were deserted, except for a few cyclists.
Isolated, people gathered at their windows and balconies religiously, every day at 7 pm, in a collective applause. A simple tribute to doctors, nurses and other essential workers who remained at their jobs. It was the only sign of life, apart from the sirens of the ambulances ...
The parks remained open. But spring came and went, and nobody noticed.
Walking through the empty city was an unusual experience. Without bumping anyone, without having to dodge anyone, without competing for space with anyone, without seeing (almost) anyone ... Being able to hear the birds ... New York was not made for so many people.
With the brutality of the police, the demonstrations conquered the streets with exciting energy. There was some looting. Plywood panels were installed on store windows. A curfew was imposed, but it was short lived.
With the arrival of summer and the reduction of COVID cases, the city opens again. People come out of their dens and run to the parks. I have never seen Central Park so crowded! Parties, reunions, picnics, painting, fitness classes, yoga, and meditation. The city parks become enabling spaces, where the risk of contagion is reduced.
Restaurants are back in operation and improvised patios appear. On the sidewalks, on the streets. The outdoors gains a new prominence in the city: even a manicure is done on the sidewalks ...
Yet, the city remains limited. Its rich social fabric is constrained. Its intense cultural life remains trapped in a straitjacket ... For the time being, summer allows us a brief breath of normality, even if restricted. Controlled. The new normality. Ephemeral. Autumn comes, and the cold weather begins. Without vaccines and with the virus still on the loose, it is likely that we will return to live in a ghost town. In a pale and skimpy version of the city that fascinates us so much.
And the question I saw on graffiti in Bushwick is: where is the real New York?
Note: Originally published in Portuguese in the site www.desestrutura.com
