observation:
one thing about living in a city is how often you inadvertently become an observer of someone else’s life. an old man moved into an apartment next to my building; he has not yet hung the curtains. just now, i sat on my balcony, smoking a cigarette after class, and watched him. he had some sort of rectangular, plastic container on top of the refrigerator. he was attempting to place the clear lid on it. i couldn’t tell what was inside. perhaps plants? small figurines? whatever it was was very important to him. he kept placing the lid on, tilting his head, removing it, and readjusting. he walked around, attempting different angles, lowering it differently, tucking something in, shaking his head, saying something to himself. i felt kind of guilty for watching and wondering. a black cat sat on his counter and was also watching. after about ten minutes of alterations, he decided it was alright and shuffled out of the room.
the thing is, i know this feeling. i have moved into an empty room and felt only ghosts inside. i quickly try to fill it with my favorite things. i can’t unpack all at once, so i grab a push pin and hang one picture, a good one; i stack certain books next to my bed. somehow surrounding myself with these things that i have loved, that i have touched over and over, that have hung on the wall through relationships and death and lonely nights and sunny mornings brings comfort.
i hope that he is comforted.
12 hours ago • 21 notes
