The spaces between
For all that all the things in this rooms fit just so, there are so many creaks, and openings, and gaps, and moments of space where nothing happens and everything seems possible. The gap under the door, where I can see who walks past when the light in the shared living room is on. The gaps between my desk drawers and the desk itself, giving brightness and colour to the black lacquered IKEA wood. The slit between the wardrobes and the wall, allowing my extension cord to be pulled through, all the way from the opposite corner. The cheapness of those wardrobes, which P talked about only this morning, the drawers never closing fully or the doors smoothly connecting just so. The drawers in the plastic dresser, offering colourful peeks of cloth inside, and plastic bags in use, or for use. The shade under the curved legs of the Tablemate, our trusted companion in preventing laptops from becoming spill zones, and mobile enough to have dinner anywhere in this room of ours. A dropping curtain, where one hook misses, offering a peek of the dark night’s sky, devoid of the tiny lights from the city below. The just-not-there connection between the plinth and the wooden floor, where I am now realising the ants might have made their entry points towards the Tablemate. The black line in the white wall, and the orange trail below, explaining the pat pat pat that occurs every so often, depositing a drop the size of one folded kitchen towel sheet.
All these things I cannot help but notice know, and unnoticing them is becoming impossible.•
Inspired by Lia Purpura