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Today It's an Empty Park, but What Comes 'After' the Coronavirus?

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The sound could be heard every morning when the sun came up: the notes of a saxophone wafting through the tangle of oleander and blooming yellow acacia flowers, floating over the jogging and bike paths on the opposite bank of the stream. Sometimes jazz improvisations, sometimes familiar tunes, sometimes random blasts of sound coming from the western bank of the Ayalon near where it empties into the Yarkon. This combination of dawning sun, dissipating morning mists, dewdrops on the grass, eucalyptus grove, masses of chrysanthemums and the music was about as close as it gets to divine revelation. Sun standing still in Givon and saxophone in Nahal Ayalon.

The lavender is also blooming now in soft purple and spreading its fragrance (or is that the lupine?), adding to the intoxication of the senses in the park in the morning. Only the riddle of the mysterious music stuck out: Who is playing there in the morning? How many morning joggers and cyclists have noticed the music? Maybe the music is meant to waken the residents of the autistic children’s home on the banks of the Ayalon? Or maybe it’s recorded music from the nearby sports club?

Last week, the........

© Haaretz