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Coronavirus Diary (4) – the disinfectant bottle, the new icon we are praying to…

Reading Time: 6 minutes

I look for empty places. Not far from home. I need to breeze some fresh air without being mortified that I might breeze in the virus too…

I thought I could move my ass (pardon my French!) going up the Mitropoliei Hill (you can now understand how much I move every day J)).

There’s no one in the streets, although I have the mask ready in case I meet any human being…

I go up the hill, I breathe heavily, as if I were going up some mountain. I realize that the gyms are closed now, when I need them most…

It is a sunny, pleasant day. And it’s quiet here. Although the noise of the street a few hundred meters away makes me understand that, because of the fear to use the public transportation, people have taken their own cars.

I keep my distance from the few people on Mitropoliei Hill. I walk around in the yard, I admire the architecture, I show my face to the sun…

The church is a historic monument, just like all the buildings around and it is open. Should I go in or not? From outside it looks empty. Just one man with a badge looks at me from inside waiting for me to decide what to do… I decide to go in.

I make the sign of the cross at the entrance and I realize that now, I have to make it in the air, without touching my forehead with my fingers… Shit, I never thought about this until now.

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The access is forbidden inside the church. The disinfectant bottle I see is something perfectly normal in this situation. It is the new icon we are praying to…

I greet the man with the badge. He tells me the service will be held outside, but that I can pray in front of the relics on the left, if I want. Then… out!

I look a bit at the beautiful altar from distance, I look at the painted walls and then I go to the relics. Do not blame me, I have never felt at ease kissing the relics. I pray my way, simply standing in front of them and of the icons there, then I worship carefully and I leave. A lady hidden somewhere, among the chair inside the church, comes and asks me:

“Won’t you pray to them?”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t you want to pray to them? They are St. Dimitrie’s relics”, she tells me.

I tell her I have just prayed to them, but she insists: “Pray TO them”, and she shows me the direction, a sign that I had to go and kiss the relics and then make the cross sign.

“No, I think it is better this way, from a distance…”, I answer, having the argument of the virus.

“They have just cleaned them… Quite well! The priest himself!”, she tries to encourage me, but I refuse politely.

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The bells strike. It is 4 pm and the service is about to begin. Outside. A few believers gathered around and they are listening to the priest. The gendarmes are present too. Three cameramen film the service. They are from a religious TV channel, as their clothes’ inscriptions indicate.

I listen for some time, then I leave.

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I go down some stone steps that are pretty much destroyed, with unequal steps, some decomposing practically and I get to a wall I have discovered a few years ago. This is a reminder of the ’70s. I am very happy that the two posters, seared in the stone, are still here.

One wall belongs to Margareta Paslaru, the other to Anda Calugareanu (both very famous Romanian singers of the ’70s). And you can also see the proof of some bored, rebellious or just in love youngsters passing by…

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I go down the hill and I promise myself that, when I become a billionaire, I will buy this house. This is the kind of house I would never get bored in!

But, before that, stay healthy! God help us all! I will go isolate myself inside my one bedroom apartment J.

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