V waves a tiny apple in the air. “These are for making wishes and then you throw them.” She explains from the sunny balcony just after breakfast. The apple is red and yellow, a little bruised but with a long healthy stem.
“Not now.” She adds. “For later.”
My thoughts wander to the fountains where I always throw a coin. Fontana di Trevi. The ones outside the Metropolitan Museum. For luck, for the people we love not selfishly for ourselves. For the future. For health. I have been tossing coins since I was as young as V, down dark wells, at the edges of rivers, and sometimes just into the darkest nights. It is a comforting habit. A choice. Nothing can stop us from doing this.
The origin of this act is built around the belief that water holds spirits. That water can be holy, and sacred. These coins are gifts, tiny sacrifices to express appreciation. But in winter, the fountains are turned off. The wells freeze over. Without realizing it, we save our wishes then.
I look down at the playground in front of our building and imagine it is already winter. This secluded life, this living in rooms while the storms and this sickness play out beyond the windows make the seasons pass so quickly. Summer was just beginning and somehow – now it feels like January.
Copyright 2021 Marco North
Marco North is an American photographer, filmmaker, musician and writer based in Moscow, Russia.