Friday, September 27, 2013
The table in my breakfast nook appears a bit narrow, if you look at it from the bed. But if you look at it from the stove it is perfect. Just above the threshold of the table is the window (when you look at it from the stove). This window looks like a picture frame; within its moulding we have public housing, the Hollywood Hills, and a towering shiny building, a monolith within a meadow of strip malls. This building is like a mirror with an overlayed grid. In it I can see a perfectly symmetrical reflection of the skyline. (“Objects in mirror may be closer than they appear.”) Black lines going up and down, crossing one another, as if the skyline were drawn on a child’s graph paper.
They do say this building is haunted, which is quite poignant to find out during my current phase, in which I’m exploring an odd fascination with ghosts. Tonight will be the first night I sleep alone in an apartment that is entirely mine. I can hear the man next door cough and it sounds like he is in my kitchen; perhaps he is a ghost. Funnily I do not mind.