Παρασκευή, 1 Φεβρουαρίου 2019

BLUE ENTER - II/III - I REMEMBER FUCHSIA

He turned the frozen knob and the door opened with a creak. He was certain that he would stop breathing out of anxiety. He entered a small room. His eyes gradually got used to the dim light coming from the lowered window blinds. It made it all pink, almost fuchsia. He was not mistaken. It was the kitchen of his father’s house in Kallithea filled in a pink tone. It was the same room with the same arrangement and almost the same objects. Manos was certain that he was in a dream so he waited, as much as you can be prepared, to feel that strange intimacy that we have when we dream. The rooms are always the same but they have many differences in the background. The faces, while they play a certain role of character, they trick you in the end. That was happening right now. Manos recognized the room but in the same time, it was also unfamiliar. 
His father’s house had a marble sink and the window just above it had a flower curtain that his mother had chosen and much liked, while on the other hand he detested, and it flapped in the breeze. Here the sink was stainless steel and the window had dusty blinds. In the place where he remembered the table, where they ate all together and they opened its extension for his uncles and cousins to sit on his name day, now there was a library with books and small jars, quite messy and dusty.
Manos approached the library and he saw a photo next to a big bowl. A small cry came out of his mouth and he was surprised by its strength. He held a picture of himself the way he was that very moment in the same room with the same clothes and the same expression. Someone either pulled a prank of bad taste on him or it all began to take the form of a nightmare. 
“What happened? Did I scare you that much?” he heard a voice behind him and Manos just froze. 
He would recognize that voice among thousands. It was his own voice. He turned reluctantly, not knowing what to face. The nightmare was getting deeper and he had to find a way to wake up immediately. He had his ten-year-old self opposite him as he looked like when he lived in this house but with his adult voice. He wore his favorite hoodie and the sneakers with the fluorescent cords. He held his basketball ball in one hand and he realized he was going to play with his friends from school who lived nearby.
“Can you tell me what does everything mean?” Manos asked his junior self.
The small boy stared at him and rudely answered him:

“I think you know why you came here again. You are getting old and you are afraid of the whole idea of adulthood. I am going to play basketball with my friends and I wish you are feeling better next time. By the way, the beard doesn’t  suit you.”

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