The war started in 1980 – when I was just four – and ended eight years later. Everything routine dissipated into ether. And then, one day, life as we knew it had been upended. For the first time, I think about the two experiences as parallels, about how both the war and pandemic started so slowly – one bomb at the onset, then several a positive case in one state, then another – that no one believed either event to really be occurring. My mind travels back a few decades, to Tehran. “We don’t have to go to the basement in case of a bomb drop. “It’s not any worse than the war,” she says, referring to the eight-year Iran-Iraq war, six years of which we endured. Like us, she has been in isolation for weeks. On the phone, my mother, one state over, is upbeat. To that effect, posts now specify if the sighting is of the original Phil Collins guy. He is so popular that there are even copycats. In posts, members of the online group alert one another to the real-time location of the Phil Collins guy and the direction he is heading in.
Tracking him has become part of our local culture, especially for those of us with street-facing windows. Up until then, I had only heard about the Phil Collins guy and seen videos of his drive-bys in an online neighbourhood forum. My pulse quickened and I could not decide whether to grab my phone to video him or stand there and enjoy the moment before he left the intersection.
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On a particularly nice day, when the sky was a brilliant blue with threads of cloud painted by the wind, and my balcony doors were wide open, his grey car blew through the sunny day and out of his windows the bass of Phil Collins’ “In the Air Tonight” filled our street’s airwaves for seconds – hypnotic drum machine beats, piano chords and distorted guitar building until the song burst into the iconic drum solo. Only once, last year, did I see him ride down our street. The view from the writer’s Brooklyn apartment Another bird – even a bland dove – would be nice, but what I am really hoping is for the Phil Collins guy to drive by. The dove takes wing and disappears but I stay upright behind the glass, yearning for more signs of normal. As far as birds go, I am impartial to their muted brown and grey palette, but their visit is yet another sign of routine, of birds being birds.Īnd these days, we are all looking for the ordinary.Īnthony looks up and out to the railing, smiles and goes back to work.
“Look, look, a dove,” I say to my husband Anthony, who is working at his desk in the living room. In many ways it is a day like any other: the structures in our Brooklyn neighbourhood are intact, workers in orange vests and hard hats are cutting up the pavement to lay new cables, and there are hints of green buds on a tree whose dark branches have become our seasonal entertainment. Outside, the low sun signals its impending shift to another part of the globe and three storeys below a couple walks on the street holding disposable coffee cups, as though it is a normal day. I Have Come to Ravish My Betrothed - 1:22ġ1.I stand behind the French glass doors to the Juliet balcony of our New York apartment. Bask in the richness of the flute and zarb accompaniment and immerse yourself in the cool, soothing timbre of Shusha's voice.Ĩ. The songs of an ancient and noble civilization the bonding of thousands of shared visions. It has been said that Shusha possesses "the dark beauty of Persia and a voice to match." This recording, dedicated entirely to her Persian roots, captures a performance of exquisitely beautiful songs of love, betrothal, separation and mystical wisdom, sung in the intimate and sensitive style that has made Shusha an internationally known performer. Read Roger Scruton's moving obituary for her in The Guardian by clicking the link at the bottom of this page. On March 21, 2008, Iranian singer, composer, and author, Shusha Guppy, died of cancer in London. Impeccably sung, this is folk art in the truest sense. Shusha, known for her French and English songs, returns to her roots in this recording of Persian songs culled from several ethnic traditions of Iran, including Guilan, Lor and the Boyer Ahmadi tribe.
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