Drops of tequila


Although the papers and the typewriter on the table seem to want to show to the outside world that this place lives – they actually express the emptiness and melancholic atmosphere. Next to this small round table, there’s just an old wooden chair, that could use some repair. An old coffee machine (that supposed to be in the kitchen), an emtpy package of marble cake and an old lamp are standing on the floor. The wooden floor is covered with some crumbs of the cake; and when you look closely to the corner in the right, next to the curtain, is the place where she used to sit.

Gazing outside the window, which was covered with raindrops, a view on an abandoned street where grass and other undefined plants rule the road. Full of emptiness.

The trees haven’t changed their leaves yet and no one wants to live or be in this place; it’s not a ghost town though – it’s just this road, and this is the only house that is still occupied. The other houses stand lonely in row with their jungle gardens. But for the animals, this must be paradise. When you enter the street when the dusk is settling in, life slowly appears; frogs finding their ways to abandoned gardens and ponds, and mice carefully scanning the places for food. And if you’re lucky, you might see the hedgehogs.


Emtpy sadness

Outside, temperatures reached levels where water turns in to ice. The construction surrounding me, what some people call a house, didn’t prevent the cold to touch me. Glancing through the window, staring at the empty grey sky, without any trace of sunshine or clouds; there is just nothing there. The branches of the trees hanging completely still, like they are glued at a museum wall. Almost like a moment before a storm breaks loose.

Here I sit. Behind the window, staring outside. I watch the birds flying around and searching the trees for food. Fallen leaves on the ground just lie there in agony, and even if it’s still the daylight, everything seems surrounded by the dark.

A deepness, unknown, is alive inside of me. I’m not sure if it’s the black hole, I don’t know why I don’t know but I just don’t know. I’m not in my best condition, that’s for sure. I would almost say I feel life closing in some ways, but it’s probably just a miscommunication or short circuit in my brain. Where is the light?

The switch on the wall, is just a switch. No matter if you press it or not, it doesn’t matter. Nothing happens. The white wall is there. The grey wall is there. Traces of blue paint, where they don’t belong. A bunch of cd’s, just sitting in their boxes, waiting to be able to hear their own sounds again – but it doesn’t seem like someone will open them and set them free. A flashlight, out of function, stands as a statue in the storm – a mighty weapon, but even mighty weapons can be useless if they can’t make a move.

The sunrise and the carcas

On a certain evening, I found myself on a trainride. A trainride through endless fields, along a canal, along a lake. Through the fields of nothingness. There is not much going on ; it’s just there. The part where the lake is is where the most of some life cycles are visible. A few swans found a place to live there, sometimes sheep are walking around, ducks, geese, herons. But I like the swans the most. White swans, and black swans. Some of them found a buddy to live. A few others seem to be alone. Sometimes they are swimming, a few times I saw them with a nest just sitting, and sometimes, they wander around alone, with a head down. When I see a swan with a head down, it always gives me some melancholic feelings in a way, and I wonder if the swan feels lonely or sad.

Suddenly my focus moves; everlong by the foo fighters is playing on my mp3 player. Carefully, I check my surroundings again. This time, the train is not crowded at all, just a couple of people. No one says a word, no one is on the phone. A man reads the newspaper, a woman sits with her dog and is reading a magazine, and another guy seems to be napping while leaning against his backpack. I seem to be the only one who is analyzing and scanning the area. Not sure why I do that, but often I take a look around me just to inspect my surroundings.  Carefully, like a ninja: Invisible, discrete, and empty. Like I move in real life too. I could be invisible, because no one will really notice me. I’m a nobody, an empty shell.

I’m staring outside the window, into the endless fields. The sun is going down, and the colors in the sky are turning red/pink/yellow/blue. Ten more minutes before the skyline of the city will be in my view. When I turn my head, towards the shipyard area, I look, turn my head and immediatly look back again.

I see two ships. Sunrise, and the nameless carcas. The Sunrise is being built, it seems that they just painted the ship in a fresh red paint. The name Sunrise arises in white letters. It’s not finished yet, but it won’t take much time that it will float and sails. I wonder if it will just sail on canals or out to the oceans as well. Next to the sunrise, there is this carcas. The contrast is beautiful. The perfect, and the forgotten.

I wonder what will become of this carcas: nameless, empty body of steel. And for a moment, it feels like I am that carcas.