Every week the days become warmer. The sun allows its rays to make longer hours on earth, filling every corner with radiant light. The tree behind our house has suddenly turned from a meagre stick into a voluptuous extravaganza of juicy, fresh leaves, evidence of a pending summer through the little high window in our living room.
Inside the house it is cool and shimmering. As in a mediterranean house in one of those tranquil countryside towns, our house dwells in a peaceful street, letting the spring in with its bright blue and smooth breeze.
My room is on the backside of the house. Sat behind my laptop, I try to get some words up on the screen. I type, think, drift off. A big fat bee comes zooming in through the open window. It flies its flight of discovery through my room, then dwells a bit, seemingly hesitant whether to leave the building into the wide spring skies, rooftops with orange panes; buzzing between various sorts of wild grasses appearing in unattended backgardens. Gently, I help it to find the way out of the window. I respect bees, they can only sting once in their life – they need to face the consequences of their one great deed. Plus they’ve got nice fur.
Now the streetside of the house is a different story. My housemate finds himself in a constant struggle to fight the flies out of the room. Flies have a nervous, manic nature. Their skin is harder, uglier, more functional. As in compulsion they maintain an imperfect circle around the lamp that hangs in the middle of my housemate’s room. Their paranoid mania prevents them from ever flying anything slower than TGV speed, never flying straight longer than a split second.
They have reason to be stressed out. My housemate jokingly confided me that if my side of the house is the Bee-side, than his must be the A-side. Today, one of his flies found its way to my room. With a newspaper, I pursued it, until, by some strange fortune, I managed to racket it against the window. I fell straight down.
Throwing the fly out (“And don’t you come back!”), I gazed out over the wasteland of back alleys and dirty gardens. Only then I noticed that a building was gone. Just, gone. It must have been levelled to the ground within a day. We now have new neigbours, I guess. I sighed; too much for one day. The only place I wanted to be on now was the seaside.