Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Venus in my Hands
I was rummaging through rows upon rows of dusty shelves, I was looking to purchase a new phone in this dusty room. The house was dark, the boarded windows and weather-beaten doors kept the light out. It would not have mattered anyway, in this dream-state I could not tell wether it was night or day.
From a corner hunched a watch-repair man, pre-occupied with his craft. A woman was sitting beside him, her head was resting comfortably on the watch-maker's broad back. From a shelf beside these figures, I was able to make figures of fully-assembled model kits. Finally! something familiar (and interesting) in this place, I drew a sigh of relief. Me and my friend (which I do not remember being acquainted with and who suddenly appeared out of nowhere) began to lift out the models from their cases to be able to appreciate them more closely. I was looking into a gun-turret-shelled Gundam model when a girl began tugging at my sleeves. She had a disshevelled look that always belonged to this place. Beneath her grimy face are the brightest eyes that dimmed even the slivers of light that filters into the room. I began telling her the reason why I was there-that I was looking for a new mobile phone. Her eyes never left my face, always sincere through all that absurdity.
When I told her that I was leaving to look for a phone somewhere else, she told me to wait then disappeared around the dusty shelves. She later came back and put a sliver of broken crystal in my hand. This is a piece of Venus, she said. My father (the watch-maker) used to be a scientist working with the government, but politics and corrupt officials robbed him of his job. The piece of Venus was his greatest find, and now it is yours.
I looked at the thing in my hand, and felt the sharp edges of the glowing white thing as I close my fingers around it. It was white as the moon, yet it had it own kaleidoscope of color when you stare at it long enough (very much like a very faint pixelation of digital images). Later I would put it in a purse of rags and never see it again. On my way out, the woman beside the watch-maker started yelling in Japanese while I was stopped by the family's butler at the door. We were talking in French.
From a corner hunched a watch-repair man, pre-occupied with his craft. A woman was sitting beside him, her head was resting comfortably on the watch-maker's broad back. From a shelf beside these figures, I was able to make figures of fully-assembled model kits. Finally! something familiar (and interesting) in this place, I drew a sigh of relief. Me and my friend (which I do not remember being acquainted with and who suddenly appeared out of nowhere) began to lift out the models from their cases to be able to appreciate them more closely. I was looking into a gun-turret-shelled Gundam model when a girl began tugging at my sleeves. She had a disshevelled look that always belonged to this place. Beneath her grimy face are the brightest eyes that dimmed even the slivers of light that filters into the room. I began telling her the reason why I was there-that I was looking for a new mobile phone. Her eyes never left my face, always sincere through all that absurdity.
When I told her that I was leaving to look for a phone somewhere else, she told me to wait then disappeared around the dusty shelves. She later came back and put a sliver of broken crystal in my hand. This is a piece of Venus, she said. My father (the watch-maker) used to be a scientist working with the government, but politics and corrupt officials robbed him of his job. The piece of Venus was his greatest find, and now it is yours.
I looked at the thing in my hand, and felt the sharp edges of the glowing white thing as I close my fingers around it. It was white as the moon, yet it had it own kaleidoscope of color when you stare at it long enough (very much like a very faint pixelation of digital images). Later I would put it in a purse of rags and never see it again. On my way out, the woman beside the watch-maker started yelling in Japanese while I was stopped by the family's butler at the door. We were talking in French.
