With all of the bars and restaurants closed since the 17th of October, the streets of Aix have become very quiet. The once bustling squares and tiny streets that were full of tourists and students are now empty. The only sound is silence. As I walk through town to take my one hour, 1km walk, I can hear my breath and the sound of my shoes as they clomp along the cobblestone streets. The only movement is the water that moves through the fountains and splashes into its basin. A flock of birds can be heard screeching overhead. Otherwise, silence. On the rare occasion, I’ll see a young couple sitting like cats in a sunny corner where they’re enjoying a chat and a little picnic. A brief encounter during a time where we don’t really see anyone anymore. As I stroll through Place Cardeurs, it is strange to see how every restaurant is closed . The tables and chairs are tied together with rope and the outdoor spaces have their plastic doors and windows snapped shut like on a boat while waiting for the storm to arrive. These places have sat still for weeks. When I first arrived in Aix, I would open the windows at night and listen to the sound of music and laughter as people dined and were entertained in the many cafes, bars and restaurants that filled this square with life. We are all waiting for that day to return. I don’t think I will ever complain again about the loudness of a bustling square right outside my doorstep. This silence is deafening. It’s a constant reminder of the death and devastation that has swept our planet in 2020.
Everything is closed. We wait.
