First of all, I miss my city. I’m tired of staying inside all the time. I’m afraid it’s going to be like this forever. I wish I hadn’t injured my foot in February because I could have kept walking every day and held my agoraphobia in check, but now I’ve fallen out of practice and am afraid to leave at all.
Second of all, this is a beautiful but dark rendition of My Favorite Things. I wonder about the artists playing it. Are they out of work musicians, busking to keep themselves above water? Do they usually play in clubs? On Broadway? Did they have thriving careers before the pandemic, careers that they loved, that are in jeopardy now?
That they are African American adds another layer. They can take a song so white, associated with Julie Andrews, the whitest of white, and give it another dimension at a time when Black people everywhere are struggling.
And behind them, the empty streets of the Upper West Side, an area that is usually bustling, even on a hot, windy, August summer evening. The stores closed, even car traffic is down.
I miss New York.