Moirea

There is a small cafe on the corner of nowhere and happiness. I got my little red envelope today that said I am to bring a magazine from 2001 there. It just so happens to be the only magazine I have in my apartment. I have stopped questioning how these things happen.

It is old, bent at the corners with a circular coffee stain around the words “Just do it. Who's going to stop you?”. The picture on the cover is a young woman blowing a bubbles. She has dark hair with loose curls that seemed to go on long after what you could see in the close up of her bust. Her lips form a red O as a stream of bubbles flow from the heart shaped wand in front of her. Her brown eyes wide, most likely trying to look at the bubbles. I have never noticed it sitting on the shelf before today.

It's funny the things people choose to notice about the things around them. Ten people could look at this cover sitting on the table next to them but none of them will really see it, see the coffee stain or the girl on the cover. It means nothing to them, but the eleventh person could walk in and see their ex girl friend the first time they meet in the park on a sunny day in July. This is my job.

Signs.

Sometimes I wonder if I was ever a real person. Did I die and end up here in this apartment? I can't remember anything before it. One day I was just here. One day I got my first red envelope. One day I walked threw the door and realized there was a world beyond the walls.

There is no such thing as time for me. It's like I can remember what it's like to look at the numbers on a clock which leads me to believe I was in the physical world before. I tried asking for the time once, he didn't answer, of course. No one ever answers. No one but Bruno.

He is staring out the window, laying on the ledge that fits his body perfectly. It is a large window that takes up most of the wall in the conjoined living room and kitchen. I wonder what it looks like today. We have a higher view. I can see a whole city laid out before me. There are sky scrapers scattered. It's a big city. I like big cities. As I move closer I can see cars driving on a over pass. People going to work or rushing home to their family. There is always a sunset in the background. The only time I know is the distance between each view we get out our window.

“I like big cities. There is so many people.” I say as I scratch Bruno's head.

“I wonder what this place is?”

“I feel they need to give us a caption or something. We get to see all these places but we never know where is it,” I only know when I step out that door what kind of place we are in. I try to make the view I like to last as long as possible so I think I am going to paint it before I walk out the door.

When I woke up here for the first time everything was white. There was no trace of colour to be found unless I looked out my window. This is how it was in till one day I woke up and I noticed a door. I don't know if it was always there but either way it was there. When I walked threw it I was shocked. It was filled with colour. There was every colour of paint, canvases and pain brush I could ask for and a note that read 'You give the world colour'.

After that day I painted everything. You will find no white in my apartment. My walls are mostly covered by the scenes I paint.

I am in front of the window now, almost done painting this lively city. It will never sleep. Forever frozen on the the edge of day, unable to take the plunge into the night. This is my life.

I am ready to walk out the door. I will see this city that never sleeps. I turn the door knob and step out, into the bright light.