alcippe

Life lived slowly

My time in lock-down has actually been pretty nice, aside from all the hand washing, avoidance of other humans, and general fear of getting this virus that you can have for weeks without knowing it. 

During the week I get to work from home. This means I save about 100 minutes each day that would otherwise be spent commuting. Working from home also means I can prepare really delicious, inexpensive, healthy lunches for myself. And I can keep my home cleaner – doing loads of laundry, setting the vacuum robot free to clean the floor. I never want to go back to working in an office when this is all over, I'm going to look specifically for remote work.

When work is done, I end it by taking a long walk to the park and watch the sun set. This is a beautiful time of day when the light is gorgeous and most people are at home eating dinner.

Weekends are the best. On Friday I ride my bicycle to where K lives in Schöneberg. We relate how our weeks went and he makes dinner. We laugh a lot, drink Champagne, and watch weird arthouse movies late into the night.

On Saturday, we sleep late, have coffee in bed, and take long hot baths. 

In the afternoon, we ride our bicycles to K's art studio, which is in an historical building, formerly a malt factory, that somehow avoided being bombed during the second world war. The adjacent grounds have been cultivated into a kind of private park where there is an eco-pond for wild life, and a swimming hole complete with sandy beach where people can swim in the warmer months. 

Sometimes we see a few other people when we go, but sometimes we are the only ones in the entire complex, which is both eerie and fantastic.

We play Aerobie on the grass and then sit at the big wooden picnic table beside the swimming hole on the beach.  

K has a garden plot there and makes sure all his plants have water while I lay in the sun and examine the grass and insects that live within it. 

And of course we do some work in the studio; K with his paintings and me with my sketchbook. His studio has a high enough ceiling and is large enough that we can play badminton – endeavouring to hit it back and forth 100 times.

In the evening we ride back to K's place, make dinner and either watch television or another movie. 

On Sunday evening when it's time to return home it's always a sad moment, although it's good to get back to my home and my bird, too.


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