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The Flâneur has become a Health Risk
Saturday 21 March 2020
Today is meant to be the first day of spring, but you wouldn’t know it. On this grim Saturday morning the day feels more like an extension of winter than the season it supposedly ushers in. It’s chilly outside, and a cold snap appears to be on the horizon, with nights expected to drop below zero.
This morning I ran what’s fast become my usual route. I climbed the stairs of a fort and went around its perimeter, taking in views of La Défense and the Eiffel Tower. Given the country’s need for greater defence, it seems apt, somehow, to make use of something built by the military.
I came back to the apartment and immediately, and unreflectively, began to wash my hands. If going outside has come to feel like a space mission, returning home resembles an astronaut reentering a shuttle, what with all the safety obstacles you have to get past.
While I hope to get some fresh air every day, I’m becoming less and less inclined to walk around the main streets. Yesterday I noticed they had become far less friendly. I get the impression that people are becoming increasingly agitated and wary, keeping an exaggerated distance from each other and treating every encounter with a newfound suspicion.
When I tried to walk into a magazine shop, the owner snapped ‘Restez là-bas’ at…
