Not a queue for bread.
Not a queue for a concert.
Not a queue for the newest iPhone.
A queue for eclipse glasses.
On Wednesday the moon will move in front of the sun, and apparently many people had read that news at the same time. The pavement outside eclipsbrillen.nl was full. People along the wall, children among them, everyone patiently waiting for a piece of cardboard with two dark lenses.
I looked at it and thought only one thing:
idiocy.
Not because a solar eclipse is not special. Quite the opposite. When the moon decides to pass precisely between us and the sun, you may certainly stop what you are doing for a moment.
But a queue for eclipse glasses?
My irassociation radar immediately came alive.
In Sursirai, things would be different.
Someone on It Plein would announce that the sun was disappearing on Wednesday. Someone else would say it was not disappearing at all. From De Toren der Verlichting, a know-it-all would probably explain that it was merely a matter of perspective.
Then someone from It Kofjehûs would call:
Coffee?
And that usually solves the biggest problem.
Perhaps there are a few eclipse glasses lying around. Perhaps they are passed on. Perhaps someone at It Bankje is peering through welding glass until a passer-by explains that this is not such a brilliant idea either.
But nobody sells the darkness.
Nobody creates a shortage of sunlight.
And when the light changes for a while on Wednesday, the people of Sursirai simply stand outside.
Not because they are afraid of missing something.
But because there is something to see.
That is different.
Perhaps that is the real eclipse of Sursirai. Not the moon moving in front of the sun, but everything that normally demands so much attention fading into the background for a few minutes.
No screen.
No algorithm.
No notification.
No hurry.
Just a few people looking up at the same time.
And somewhere, exactly when the moon moves on again, a duck quacks.
Because even in Sursirai, someone has to have the last word. 🦆