Room with a view

The room was fun at night, but she had never liked it in the day light.  In the evening, under dimmed lights the amber reflections made it feel warm and inviting.  But, the brightness of the day light revealed bare walls and emptiness.  It was stark and stale.  She hated it, because much like herself, she didn’t know how to fill it.

So she left it.

She had never bothered to decorate, because she didn’t know how long she would be there.  Decorating seemed to imply some kind of permanence and permanence of any kind didn’t appeal to her.

So she left it.

There wasn’t even a TV.  At least with a TV reflections would fill the space.  Provide some distraction.  Some noise, other than the inexorable voice of her mind.  She’d always wished she could take a vacation from that, but had never figured out how.

So she left it.

There was a tattered 2 seater against the side wall. The opposite wall was big and white and blank, apart from two postcard sized Banksy prints she’d bought at the markets and slapped up. But the front wall was windows.  She could stand there and gaze upon the street below, where there was always something happening.  Celebrities and friends dined at the café below.  Hoods’ gathered on the street corner playing it cool.  Or tough.  (Or something).  Film crews filmed, rioters rioted and fighters fought.  There was laughter too.  Steel bands and carnivals and grandma’s on scooters!  The window’s rocked.

They were old and rickety, with paint chipping off their frames in chunks, taking with it splinters of wood.  One of the windows opened in toward the room, like a tiny little door.  It (or one of the walls) had moved at a party she had once held and become skewed.  It now had to be slammed shut and yanked open.  Like her, it suffered permanent damage from her lifestyle choices.

If she peered out her rickety window at the right time, she caught people she knew and loved pass by.  Her friends were all around.  Buying water and cigarettes from  the little blue off licence across the road.  Getting waxed at ‘Stripped‘ salon and stumbling down the cobbled mews after throwing down ‘one more drink’ at the pub.

She loved to see them when they didn’t know she was watching.  To see how they they walked alone.  Or, to see who they walked with when not with her.  To see if they looked for her.  She wondered if they were happy as the walked by.  She hoped they were.

Her room was bare, yet she was surrounded by life.

It was the best view she ever had.

But, she left it…

 

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