Restaurants reopened in Austria on Wednesday, creating a memorable experience. After a busy day at work, I rushed home, gave a presentation for Uni, gathered my belongings, and headed to the restaurant. My best friend and her cousin were already there, waiting with the pizza I had ordered. Time was limited, as we only had the table until seven pm. Despite the heavy rain, we enjoyed our time, sipping wine, laughing, and indulging in the pizza. It was a surreal sight to see people dining inside and outside, braving the cold and rain with umbrellas.
However, the experience reminded me of the costliness and loud music that often accompanies dining out. It made me appreciate the tranquility of home-office, home-gym, and home-spa, where I can enjoy my own thoughts and eat noodles with ketchup without judgment. It was both strange and fantastic to witness people hugging with relief, yet feeling guilty, considering the strict entry requirements for theaters, restaurants, and cinemas in Austria, such as testing, vaccination, or recovery from Covid-19 within the last six months.
After our pizza feast, we visited a bar where we savored Gin Tonics and Moscow Mules while a thunderstorm illuminated the sky. The limited space resulted in people being turned away as the bar quickly filled up from all directions.
As I write this, the morning sun shines through my open window while I enjoy my coffee, wearing my new dungarees. The warmth dries my wet hair after a shower. I am exhausted, with dark circles under my eyes, a testament to the restless nights. The extended restaurant hours until ten pm have led to afterparties with more drinks, like Martini or Gin Tonic, accompanied by chips, casual conversations, and funny YouTube videos. It feels like being sixteen again, laughing hysterically and embracing every opportunity to socialize in a Covid-19 safe manner. It’s a chance to catch up on the life I missed while spending a year on Zoom. I wonder about the person I could have become. Perhaps not vastly different, but one can still dream of exploring different countries, dancing all night, or inventing a universally loved drink.
While gazing at my reflection in the mirror, I ponder what the world could have been without the devastating pandemic, which claimed numerous lives and loved ones. However, such speculations remain in the realm of imagination. The ideal version of my shadow-self, like Plato would describe it, can never truly materialize. Yet, I can dream and envision the best possible outcome for myself during this pandemic. It’s akin to creating oneself out of clay, like Prometheus, the titan of Greek mythology who crafted humans as miniature gods and gifted them fire. Prometheus endured eternal suffering under Zeus’ rule as punishment. Who or what would be the cause of my own suffering? The realization that the great version of my shadow-self will forever remain out of reach? My insecurities? Or societal expectations dictating the appearance of my shadow-self?
Prometheus, despite his suffering, is immortal. Each day, an eagle pecks at his liver, only for it to regenerate so the torment can continue. Prometheus willingly sacrificed his freedom for humanity, driven by his profound fascination with human beings. If even a titan is willing to give up everything, what are we capable of? Perhaps not much, aside from crafting compelling stories.
Now, as I finish my second cup of coffee, I must meet my friends. We have planned an early study session in the park. The sun shines, casting small shadows that gradually lengthen as it traverses the horizon. Somewhere along its eternal path, the eagle alights beside Prometheus, who awaits his fate with a knowing smile, for in the end, he alone emerges victorious. Neither humans nor gods can claim that title.
Fire has the power to consume shadows effortlessly, while simultaneously casting new ones in its wake.
It’s an eternal cycle, and perhaps Prometheus cracks a smile as the wet sound of his liver being torn echoes.
A ficitonal short Storty by Anna Hirschhuber
