This series is my contribution to the monthly text-battle
'The secret diary of somebody else' with artist Aino el Solh.
click here for:
'I forgot to mention that I will be out of town.'
coming up title: Right (15.03)
I usually get woken up by the neighbours in their kitchen, right next to my bed. Every morning they fight! Or that is at least how it sounds like through the brick wall, while someone is putting something back onto the shelve with a short tick-sound, twice. Then some more fighting, followed by silence till at least lunch time. I stack up the pillows under my head (who needs eight pillows snarling around?), my eyes stay closed.
The blanket follows any of my moves with that sound of breaking waves, never letting me out of sight. Any revelation of skin is immediately covered. My skin feels numb and soft when I rub my legs. The birds discuss relentlessly, meanwhile picking the last seeds and I drift off to some small dreams that won't last long. Something like a commercial break.
The eyes feel heavy and dry, while the light hesitantly slips through to my brain. The fridge is playing his cold-blooded melody for a moment, brr zzz pff brrr brrrrrrrrrrchhrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, as the thoughts start to come in and the heatwave, that is a result of that, is forcing one leg from under the blanket.
My view is blocked by a white mountaintop, when I open my eyes. I play god and move the mountain to lavishly gaze at the framed drawings on the wall.
The upper part of my window is covered with pieces of coloured foil (left-over from a retired love). Together with the fake crystal, hanging faintly off a sewing thread, they perform a ravishing play, if the sun hits the right point of view (around 15h). The arid and harrowed branches, outside my window, form shapes onto the facade of the opposite house. The facade is broken by two windows that cover the staircase and show nothing but black glass. I wonder at times if somebody is looking back. Something seems different today. 'bright, jazzed, clear, animated, expansive'
I hear the neighbour leaving the house, his shoes crush through the snow.