“anxiety is the dizziness of freedom”
― søren kierkegaard
This is, I hope, my final post in my Brussels Lockdown series.
An uneasy peace has returned to the streets this weekend. In comparison with last week, the streets were busier, but not as one might expect at this time of the year.
A notable exception being the long long queues outside Primark which I recall from last year. Is it possible that some people have been living here on the street, camping out all year, in the hope of that one bargain in the sale?
In contrast, many of the other shops were quieter than usual, some of the entrances to the City2 shopping centre were closed off, and taped up, to allow the guards to more diligently screen those wishing to shop within.
Or perhaps, as in this case, to practice their dance moves?
Soldiers patrolled the mall, and the approaches to, and platforms of, the metro.
Scanners, such as those used at the airport were deployed. Liquids were not banned and their appeared to be no Fastrack for frequent flyers or those with other reasons to feel privileged, no, here, today, we were all alike. In fact, we were (treated) like cattle.
The soldiers seemed more relaxed this week. Except when I pointed my Nikon in their direction, when some, fearing exposure, would pull their scarves up over their face and turn away. But unlike the other day, not once was I challenged and asked to delete anything. I had a minor scare when taking my camera out of my bag, and taking off the lens cap, made a loud metallic noise, not unlike a weapon being primed (I imagined, I wouldn’t know), which made people look around in fear. Thankfully the soldiers knew better. Their training helping their undoubted anxiety.
I walked down the escalator to the Metro, a young heavily armed soldier by my side, I smiled, he smiled back. We looked away. What is there to say?
And so, the peace filters back on to the streets.
And I am left wondering.
15 thoughts on “seven days later”
hopefully it will last, the peace I mean
It’s more peaceful now. But the skies are now echoing with the sounds of our warplanes and I fear that may only make matters worse. Or not. I have no idea. But.
yes but. I hope things continue to improve and perhaps, in the new year, peace may be found.
Let’s hope so, and make it so.
the opening quote is so appropriate….and frustrating.
As is the situation. Thank you Lois.
Looks better! Keep going!
Thank you and likewise.
I am reading your old posts after my own ‘lockdown’. Very interesting to learn from you on how it felt to be there. Let’s hope this is not going to happen again.
Hello Lucile, so good to hear from you again and as I survey my list of comments I feel flattered indeed with the attention you haver paid to my scribbles. I hope all is well with you and yours.
And yes, let’s hope it doesn’t happen again although from what I see and ‘feel’ I don’t see or feel any change…
Hello Andy, I’m slowly getting back to the blogosphere but it feels overwhelming to post, read and comment on everyone’s blogs that I follow. I’m finding a new balance though as I have less time to blog. Your blog is surely not to be missed, and your scribbles must be read with pleasure, even if all I leave is a like. I learnt to appreciate those who taught me that sometimes all we can leave is like as sign of our appreciation and respect for our fellow bloggers, when we have no time.
I am touched, honoured and delighted that you have spent so much time ‘here’, means a lot to me.
I am not deserving of so much consideration, Andy. You’re a great supporter of my endeavors and the minimum I can do is to give back. Equally means a lot to me.