Friday 27 May 2011

The house opposite: A free-write

In the house opposite the lights are never on. Three windows are visible from the front and each
is dirty or defaced in a different way. The smallest window, first floor above the blue front door,
is thick with dust on the inside, grime from street pollution on the outside. On the lower half of
 this window there is a small clean circle, like that a child might make if he or she was curious
about what the weather was like, or to see if those footsteps on the path belonged to the postman, or a curious neighbor come to peer through the letterbox again.
The opening part of this window is open and has been for a long time. It must get very cold in this room during winter. The next window along on this neglected house is presumably the master bedroom. Again, layers of muck produced by the passing of days and cars makes it difficult to see anything beyond the glass but for a net curtain that is at its whitest near the rail but as the eye travels down it is home to a thousand colours each muddier than the last. A small hole, about the size of a two pence coin, surrounded by splinters and cracks whistles when the wind blows. It can be heard, sometimes, from more than 3 houses away. Beneath the master bedroom is the living room. TV light does not flicker. It is constant, and white. No game-shows, no soaps, applause or canned laughter. The house opposite turns every passing smile into a frown. 

No comments:

Post a Comment