“I’m not hungry anymore”, she gestured away from the tin chicken liver pate container with a knife still in her hand. The smartphone wedged beneath her thighs on the couch buzzed with muffled excitement, prompting her to attend to its incoming purr of notifications. Moving the plate with a half-eaten piece of bread from her lap to the coffee table, she stretched her neck, leaned back, and groaned with a childlike expression of discontentment and boredom.
A sense of dread, followed closely by embarrassment at the realization, overcame me as I observed. Like an inverse voyeur, I watched as the old allure of her impish demeanor, the seductive contour of those slender arms, the impudent slope of her delicately sharp jawline, and the ever-so-slightly broken-up lines of her full lips, had begun to dissipate in my mind from breathtaking to mundane. It was becoming hard to remember those rushes of inspiration I would get before when looking at her; was it partly, or mostly, because she was so alien to who I was and how I lived? “But of course she is only human…did you expect her to be a fairy?”, I heard my conscience speak to me, “Or are you aggrieved that there is no hidden truth behind what you perceive as beautiful, no sky-reaching manifesto that would deem her worthy of it?” I could sense a tinge of dry envy coloring my attention, which then scurried away into realistic introspection seeking to dispel it. “Honesty and truth, they ought to be my pillars, no matter the cost”, I could feel my consciousness telling me, unbearable and burning.
“Are you still sulking? You shouldn’t be. I don’t need to put up with your arrogance, it’s such a lovely day outside.”
—“Please stop it. You know how these things tend to end up. Haven’t we fought enough this morning? I’m not-”
“Just…whatever. You’re not my parents. You know damn well what you said was stupid.” She scoffed and turned to her side.
-“I think I’ll go for a walk.” And I did.
My mind was jumping in and out of itself as I meandered in the blistering afternoon heat; the twisting and turning of recursive thoughts seeking the inner pathways to ganglia rich in clarity, fighting the almighty sensorium awakened by the rhythmic pressure of the pavement against the worn-out sneakers, and the heavy sunlight weighing down on my eyelids.
A landscape of decrepit brown pillars and yellow bricks was laid before me. Whatever hopes and dreams of their builders were imbued in this monolithic apartment block, were now soaked beneath the weight of changing times and broken promises. Propped up by inescapable realities of its occupants, its long-awaited rest and resolution were denied by ever-renewing gasps for hope and future.
These slumbering juggernauts cradled a small recess with a playground for children. Swings, seesaws (and my favorites, waist-high horizontal bars) covered the area with their splashes of mostly faded burgundy and teal paint. I leaned on one of the bars and looked up, relinquishing my struggling spirit to the Sun. Its overwhelming force negated every other thought or impulse for a few minutes. Then I raised myself up and kept going.
One of the apartment buildings towering above the playground, perched on a small paved hill, had its entrance doors ajar. The shadowy belly of this mammoth object did not seem inviting, but it did not give cause for fright either. Immobile and perfectly at rest in the surrounding shade from the canopy above it, this corner of the world seemed almost immaterial, closer to a photograph or a painting. I decided to walk inside in an effort that struck me as strange; things just happened, even though the preceding moments were entirely absent in thought and motivation.
The hallways were dark and quiet, only illuminated by the diffuse daylight piercing through the occasional thick, textured glass walls whose design evoked days long past. No sound seemed to emanate from any of the apartment doors I passed. I squinted trying to read the doorplates but it was all inscrutable under these conditions. Then a flight of stairs, echoing and cold. Finally, a streak of light appeared on the first floor, revealing an open door.
There was no one inside. Only a long forgotten brown nylon sofa, surrounded by wooden furniture, a fridge, and some pillows and blankets strewn about. Although it was old, it did not appear to be overly dusty. With a bit of cleaning up, one could make it work. That sofa was big enough to fit a family. If one were to move some of the furniture around…the place would appear more spacious and leave more room to stretch one’s legs.
“I remember when I was a kid”, the thought struck me and evoked a faint smile, “Watching action movies from the safety of a sofa like this would make me very happy. It was easy to dream with an unsoiled soul and that youthful naiveté. And after the movie was done, I would think of ways to build forts with the sofa elements and impress my brother. We felt safe.”
I plopped my weary body facedown on the sofa and felt its slightly raggedy texture. Again, basking in the sun coming through the opalescent white curtains. This sunlight was not as bad as the one outside, but rather mild and gentle on the skin and eyes. In this silence, a pleasant drowziness began to overcome me. The boundaries of this place felt liberating in their humble simplicity.
“Oh look, there’s the TV”, I observed the cute dusty CRT in the corner. “Perfect for watching it while lying on the side. And the fridge, yeah, right over there. Think I saw a tiny bathroom near the entrance too.”
One could make it work. The TV would be the portal, as it used to be. It was a weird time, a concoction of bizarre and confused intricacies of the era mixed in with an undulating vision of a dream life. I knew the outside world was ugly and wrong, but the TV provided a real comfort. Like things could yet turn out wonderfully, like anything is possible.
It was time to leave this nook.
Outside, I saw three women walking and chatting. The sun had gotten even brighter, as if mimicking their radiance.
“Hey, do I know you?”, the one in the middle smiled and shouted as I walked past them. She had a tall and quite slim figure, with long natural blond hair, and was wearing a white shirt and denim shorts. I stopped and gave myself pause to try and recognize her face.
Clear blue eyes of a seraph. An overly skinny but feminine face enveloped in sunlight. A smile.
-“Oh…well, yes, but, only superficially I think, I remember you from…was it elementary? We never really talked and you were in a different class.”
“Yeah, that’s right. But I do know you.” She said that and outstretched her hand. “This place though…do I know this place?”, she pondered with her hand still reaching out.
“Come on, let’s try to remember something new”. She held my hand and we started exploring.
A Forgotten Nook 