Resurgence pt. 1

October 5, 2005

Wednesday 

Dear Diary, 

Rain drummed against the window, providing a dreary backdrop to the cold fog that clung to the air, mirroring my darkened mood. Across the table was my wife’s creation, the same old pancake as always. I then turned on the TV to watch the daily news. It was my second month of retirement. As an ex-war correspondent, I am used to the relentless life of jet-setting to dangerous parts of the world to keep the public updated on important events. Now, I found myself on the other side of the screen, a passive viewer rather than the reporter. The transition felt unsettling. The news on TV only deepened my restlessness, triggering a disconcerting sense of dysphoria as the yearning to return to my former role tugged at me. I shut off the TV and turned to YouTube to distract my attention from the news. 

I scrolled through the videos feeling disappointed by video after video. However, a video of a young boy painting on the ruins of houses caught my attention. 

An image of "The Phoenix's Resurgence” on the bottom left corner of the screen was particularly eye-catching. In this painting, vibrant hues of red, orange, and gold danced across the broken wall. It depicted a majestic phoenix rising from the ashes, its wings outstretched as if defying the destruction surrounding it. It gradually calmed my agitated heart – I’d have to praise this little boy. He’s a born painter!

As a retired reporter, my curiosity always pushes me to seek more. After finishing the whole video and scrolling through the comments, I learned a little about this young boy. His name is Adhem. He lived in a neighborhood in East Jerusalem, and his community was destroyed a few weeks ago. 

I made my decision – I would visit him. The monotony of retirement had cast a pall over my existence, rendering my days boring and insipid. The once-vibrant hues of life had faded, replaced by the unchanging view of the same garden seen through a small, gray window. Interviewing him and writing a report about his story could bring me some taste of excitement back.

The ticket is booked –  and shh, I didn’t tell my wife about it.