walls.

Moving is curious. Or perhaps it’s the fact that I have moved too many times that makes it curious. Waking up in the dark, I find myself visualising the scene out the window of my new bedroom, and that visualisation is of the scene out my old window. I visualise the outside of my bedroom door, and that visualisation is of my old kitchen. I shouldn’t say “old”, however. “Previous” is more like it, as I’ve only lived in this “old” place for the last 2 months.

What’s even more curious is, this previous place of mine was a studio unit, where there were no walls separating the bedroom and the other areas in the unit. Call them kitchen, and dining, and living – but they were all a mash, jumbled together, although with somewhat of a(n imaginary, or imaginative) demarkation, in one wall-less space. Yet, I still visualise this previous wall-less kitchen out of my bedroom door here, a bedroom with walls.

The most curious of all is, how certain people went so far as building real, literal walls within their allegorical studio unit, just because their brain tricks them into imagining that there should be walls. “Congratulations, sir, you’ve got yourself a merry little country!”