Bookmark #806

Today, I got out on the wrong floor because someone had pressed both buttons for the elevator. If you do not know why that is a problem, I am envious of you and would very much wish your life, or at least, your obliviousness to this based on whatever the reasons may be. But thanks to this, and yes, I am thankful, and I will tell you why in a minute, I got out on the third floor instead of the seventh, and since I was too preoccupied with thought, I got out of the lift. I saw the gallery to my apartment—all the floors have the same layout as they often do, as dystopian as that sounds—filled with boxes and cartons. Suddenly, I felt odd and out of place. It was then that I realised I was on the wrong floor. When I came to my floor and walked to the apartment along a gallery built in the exact same way as the one on the third floor, I could not help but notice how the many, many pots and planters kept and taken care of by a neighbour were a surprisingly welcome sight.

You see when they first started encroaching on the space in this gallery and began creating this colonnade to their door three years ago, I was a silent critic. I would tell friends and family about it but never raise it as a true issue. Perhaps a part of me knew it was a non-issue in the first place and that until someone makes it one, it does not matter. But today, today I realised how beautiful their Chinese evergreens seemed peeking down from the balustrades, how tall their Snake plants had grown, and how the Spider plants caressed the stems of the Peace Lillies as if they were timid lovers walking in public. All in all, in the few moments it took me to cross over and reach my door, I had a newfound appreciation for all the years they have taken care of those plants.

And I decided I would end my day on only this thought: that beauty is beauty regardless of who is responsible for it and that there are things we do not realise the importance of until we see how the world would look without them. There is little to say now; all I have to do is make a cup of chamomile, sit and read Of Mice and Men, which has graced my lounger for over a week. What a day, indeed.

// if you want to support this walk to nowhere, you can pitch in here