Texts > It rotated
At the back wall, behind the apartment complex, she could just make out the freeway, sliding in the distance. The cars and heavy trucks were like quiet insects, transgressing the horizon with greasy bowels and carbon monoxide breath. Through the span between them, they appeared to be urgent boats upon a strait of trees, oblivious to the quarters around them. The freeway was so far away; she was unable to detect the humming tires.
At the back wall, behind the apartment complex, she would often hear the twin sisters on the third floor, singing from their opened window. She imagined them sprawled about the carpet between the two beds, clutching various imitation Barbie dolls, consummating plastic wedding ceremonies and playing tiny black records. The twins were oblivious as well. They could sing for hours, their muffled, childish concerts filtering down into the lawn behind the complex, ringing in her ears. At times she could hear them so clearly, it was as if they were standing right next to her.
At the back wall, behind the apartment complex, the bricks were a reddish-brown colour, like quadrilaterals of dried blood and breeze. They were the only things that could see her. The truck chauffeurs were too far away. The twins were indoors. The lawn was empty. Only the bricks could have had hands, veins, teeth and a tongue. Only the bricks could have smelled of sweat and damp hair. This wall of masonry was so wide and smooth it could have been the stretch of bed sheet, just underneath her pillow, whispering to her palms that this afternoon was only a dream, that all violence was mythical.
At the back wall, behind the apartment complex, she saw a shadow, slanting across the lawn, bending at a 65° angle against the bricks. The shadow moved in an elongated way, eclipsing the turf with its narrow, jerky form. She looked behind to see who was coming, but there was no one there to cast this shadow. She sat still upon the grass, watching the shade advance, spreading itself upon the wall. Sometimes it rotated, as if it were riding the twins record player. Sometimes it fluctuated, like an aperture opening and closing. The shadow remained close by her, like a blur of mist and saliva, behind the apartment complex, where no one could see.
The end.
Alice Evermore 2002
Ellen Augustynen - Am I only Dreaming
Solo exhibition Netwerk Galerij.
09/03/02 > 13/04/02