I woke up in silence.
I picked myself out of bed and brushed my teeth. The Sun was up already and the sea was calm, a beautiful sight. Made myself some coffee, chewed on my nicotine gum and waited out the craving. Put on pants and shoes, a t-shirt with a skeleton stamp, and took off for the market.
My street is made of slippery stones so I take the narrow sidewalk down to the fruit-market. Bought strawberries and bananas, some vegetables and potatoes. Onions too. The strawberries looked particularly good. Sellers were calling us to buy their stuff, and they looked happy. There were three young men dressed in black, baring an ancient symbol on their identical t-shirts fooling around at a corner. One of them was telling a joke, the others were laughing their hearts out. The cabbages were not that good, so I didn’t get any.
I brought everything back home and got in my car to drive to the super market. My favorite song played on the radio right before the news about a bombing at the other end of the world. Some three people were killed, some kid amongst them, over a hundred were injured. Some new cell phone will change everyone’s life for ever. Some leader far far away threatened the globe with annihilation, and some new theatrical play goes on stage tonight; only eleven euros for a ticket. They advertised some anti-wrinkling cream. Then there was static – no signal in the underground parking.
There were a lot of new offers and discounts at the super market and a calming background music. I am not so much into that music. Bought the necessary and paid what seemed to me to be a lot. The cashier was talking about how many miles she ran on the mill while putting my staff in plastic bags. No one had claimed responsibility for the bombing yet, the other cashier mentioned. An old lady thought she talked to her and said what; the cashier said never mind.
I carried everything to the car, and it wasn’t easy because of all the cleaning products and detergents that come in ton-bottles. I recycle the plastic bottles and glass bottles too. Some say they all go to the same trash pile, but it’s not much to throw them in the blue bin, so I do it, and I stop thinking about where they go. I’m happy with what I do, my part that is; I play my part efficiently, so I am happy.
And I am always on time – if you want to hire me for anything, I am always on time, and available now.
I returned home and baked a pie while listening to the news and looking at the sea out my window. I am fortunate like that. Some politician formed a new party and is trying to explain why. It’s not easy on him I guess.
There was a man pushing a cart full of metal parts, heavy, heavier than the man himself, and he was pushing it up my street of slippery stones, against gravity. All the way against gravity, and he was whistling in his foreign whistle. The three young men in black approached him, I guess, and maybe asked him something. The weather is going to be good for the rest of the day, with a slight chance of rain, but the temperature will drop a couple of degrees towards the end of the week. It’s fine, I had no plans to go out. The three young men started pushing the thin man around, and they scattered the large metal parts on my street of slippery stones, and the thin man ran away and disappeared. The young men kicked around the metal parts and left too. Not many people were on their balconies watching, and they said hi to each other, and went back in, to take their pies out of the oven.
No one likes a burnt pie.
I have a new oven which bakes pies in half the time, so I need to be very careful not to burn my pies. It took twenty minutes – record time. There was a financial analyst on the radio, talking about the necessary changes in order for the crisis to end, but most of us know it’ll take a war. Pies are not abundant during a war, and people need them to keep smiling, so we accumulate fat in order to sleep through the winter that is coming upon us. The thin man returned and picked up the large metal parts – I could finally see it was a broken refrigerator. Or something. The analyst said that the global economy is a figment of our imagination, a study on social relations, an experiment that has lasted way too long and we need to pull the plug before the lab gets burnt to the ground. The reporter was impressed by the president’s stand and performance in the face of the bombing. She said it four times, in different words. Smart lady.
The thin man was gone in a few minutes. I had hung some clothes last night, and they must have been dry, but it started raining. It wasn’t bad at first, but it got real bad real quick. Thunders and lightning filled the horizon and the sea turned white with waves. The Sun disappeared, and rivers of water came down my slippery stone street, carrying plastic bags, cell phones, trash of all sort, some cigarette buds, a lipstick, some bananas, a refrigerator, three young men, strawberries, a pie, two cashiers, four of my neighbors, cars and bicycles, an analyst, the thin man, a reporter, the president, three dead bodies and over a hundred amputated children, my car, the clothes I had hung the previous night, and it was getting bigger, and darker, the river that is, it was rushing towards the sea, and then it brought entire houses with it, that squeezed between my building and the one across, and hundreds of thousands of pies, and money, so much money I have never seen, and banks, and terrorists, and anarchists, and communists, and racists, and politicians who formed new parties, and more reporters, and more people, and more money, and more cell phones, until everything was brought into the sea, to sink, and never to come back.
I woke up in silence.