Not many people sit on their balconies on my side of the building. Some have chairs and tables set up- proof they have considered providing themselves with “leisure time”. I sit out here often, trapped in my little rectangle of cement and barrier bars, I can’t see much past the parking garage and there is really no activity there until 4am when you’re trying to sleep. Maybe they feel such an unworthy site will not fulfill the requirements of their non-existent relaxation period. There isn’t much I like about living here other than this porch. There is no time out here, the world slows down to what I make of it. There are little people below running around on their time clocks; rushing home from work, rushing to the gym, rushing to make dinner, rushing to bed, to hit restart. What for? To arrange chairs to imagine what it feels like to relax. To think of the last time you breathed in air and thought of nothing but how good it feels. I guess what I’m getting at is that life is run by a circle, not leaders or bosses. A circle with numbers, which leads to a box with numbers housed by squares. Time, Date, Year, Your Life. Boxed and circled by digits, to land you in a box under a stone, engraved with digits.
-B
Pingback: Chapter Four | Luminous Matter