With the social-distancing restrictions relaxed, my social activities are slowly picking up once again. My weekly Chinese calligraphy class was resumed on Tuesday since stopping from December. Had dinner with a few fellowship brothers on Friday, last meet up was probably around half a year ago before the 4th pandemic wave hit the city. Also went to see an exhibition for the first time since… maybe summer last year, it’s been way too long to recall.
The exhibition was actually kinda interesting. My teacher from a rubber stamp carving class years ago invited me personally to see the exhibition in Tai O. The venue was an old shop (58 years old) owned by his family. My teacher said his mother is retiring and the shop will be renovated and rented out. The aged shop to be closed and my teacher’s hexagonal collages of nostalgic objects that rekindled many childhood memories seemed to fit perfectly. The misty gloomy weather that day also matched the somewhat saddened atmosphere. My recent gloomy mood seemed to be in sync with this spontaneous Saturday excursion.
Even though we’re beginning to see a glimmer of light in this long pandemic tunnel, I still find it hard to show any sign of joy. How can one possibly find joy in a city where truth, freedom, and justice are being suppressed and many people being persecuted wrongfully? I feel more comfortable crying with those who cry than being joyful with those who are happy. I seem to find temporary relief when indulging in my personal projects, current works include experimenting with composting and cooking rice for the first time in my culinary art exploration journey.
The path to the end of the pandemic tunnel is still quite far and only God knows what lies beyond it. Regardless, life must carry on, one day at a time.
