Bíldudalur (Foto: Melanie Pieper)

My neighbour


Sometimes the tiny lady next door opens the windows at both ends of her apartment and along with the odd lost insect an airy breeze flows through. For an instant the oh so opposite sides of the house are connected: the northern side along the street with the southern side facing jungled trees.


This bond can easily be broken as it solely comprises of air, however, it is strong as it chases away the staleness of her home. Suddenly there is motion. Even if it is just for a moment.


The tiny lady feels inspired to do the dishes backwards and feed vegan icecream to her parrot who incidently gets hickups.

Abruptly, the wooden boards are lifted from neglected parts of the windows, mine too, to let in light through freshly cut coloured glass. The tiny lady is relieved to see this and her initial inspiration grows into full-blown imagination.

 

When she closes her eyes she travels to a place so remote and beautiful she once mistook it for a painting.

 

An insect lands on her shoulder and smirks at her. It is the insect's first time passing through. But the tiny lady gathers that it is time to close the windows now and to fully return from the intimacy of that painting.

 

The parrot agrees.