City of Lights, and Illusions.

We’re now four days into the confinement. The streets are still quiet but there are a few more cars on the road. The view from my window feels increasingly surreal. While I can see the Eiffel Tower in the distance, I can no longer reach it.

Now that Paris is off-limits, the cityscape has become a beautiful chimera. I can see Paris; it’s barely a kilometre away. And yet, I’m no closer to entering its gates than I was back in New Zealand. My view could be a green screen, for all I know, and it wouldn’t make one bit of difference.

Yesterday afternoon I went outside for a walk. The sun was out, but most of the neighbourhood wasn't. Some passersbys walked past carrying reusable bags. On the pavement, a mother was kicking a football with her two daughters.

With spring just around the corner, most of those who dared venture outside appeared to have shed their winter coats.

I might have been imagining things, but the air felt crisper and purer than ever before. Perhaps the dramatic drop in industry and car journeys has been a boon for nature, although I cannot say for sure.

I headed down the street towards the main square. To my surprise, there were more people outside than I’d expected. And yet, at the same time, there was still something about the scene that felt a little off. The neighbourhood…