The park is still closed, sort of, if you look sketchy or linger too long.
It's beyond infuriating, during a pandemic, and living in an apartment, to also be forbidden from using a public city park.
But, I guess we are beyond infuriated and outraged.
*
Men on ladders were busily unscrewing plywood from the windows of Molly Moons and the Bartell's on Pike. I noticed that Blick's beautiful murals were gone, too.
I said good morning to a couple of folks sitting on the sidewalk near Seattle Central. One was just stretching his legs, bleary eyed, a companion screaming, It's time to wake the fuck up!
*
As I walked back up Pine, the plaintive wail of a horn wafted across the morning. Not a brass horn, but something older, more primal. It sounded like a Viking battle cry. I kept walking.
Two gray-haired women took photos of the Black Lives Matter street mural.
At the corner of Pine and 11th, I passed a grave-faced man wearing a fringed shawl, who carried a long, twisty animal horn.
That was beautiful, I said, and he said Thank you ma'am, and kept walking.
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