My forehead is beaded with sweat when I finally reach the
apartment after the twelve-floor climb.
It hasn’t gotten any easier and whoever said always take the stairs to
get in shape is a liar. Out of frustration
and pure exhaustion, I bang my head against the door at the mere thought of
entering. The pain is numbing and
sensational. Harder than I
intended but at least it will deaden my senses for a few moments so I can bear
to enter this alien place.
Mr. Win is the only one home and is passed out with just a sheet, drool forming a shallow pool below his chin in the dip of the mattress made by the pressure of his mammoth of a middle. I walk on parts of the hard wood floor that aren’t littered with garbage-mostly empty beer bottles, take out containers, and cigarettes.
The door creaks open when I enter my area, it doesn’t even
classify as a room, but Vincenchi made us all rectangular frames reminiscent of
doors in order to keep any of the remaining dignity any of us had left. I tumble onto my mattress, uncovered with a single pillow that’s so worn it’s
nearly split in two. The tiny
window above my bureau leaks murky light from a nearby streetlight into the
room, polluted with smog and sulfur oxide from the city. The counterfeit light makes me feel worse
as I slug another swig of my Heineken.
There’s a place hundreds of miles from here, where the sun
is so close, that you can’t look up because you’ll be blinded the white. Real light. The aureate kind that spangles off the water and burns your
skin dry. The kind that is so hot but so invigorating you couldn't imagine feeling more content. Aphids
suck the sap off the veiny green leaves; the water running strong, ignoring the
boulders in its path. The mist
cleanses your tainted skin as you float into the Catalina blue of the rapids. Every entry feels as if you are being
reborn into the person you were meant to be. The blistering light of the sun streaks your skin through
the trees. This is what being alive
feels like, you think.
I wasn’t always here.
Living in a two-room apartment filled with six, at the dirt end of Chinatown that smells
of ferrets. Between us, there are four different languages spoken-so very few words spoken at all. The silence is
not the tranquil one I’ve once experienced-but is phony and ear shattering. The light is not the same, even
outside. The street lights,
billboards, and buildings don’t radiate my mind like the resplendent light from
the stars of the place I once knew.
I am left only to dream. I drift off to sleep as a familiar light begins to vibrate against my face. A text message from Mr. Yio: "Can you please come in earlier? 9:00 am." I throw the phone making another tributary in the stream of cracks along the wall.
The post is well thought out. The author has a sense of place and is able to show narrative by both description and imagery. The author shows the story rather than telling which would be less impressive. Sentences like “my forehead is beaded with sweat,” tells the reader how it is a struggle for the character to enter the apartment room both physically and mentally.
ReplyDeleteMr. Win is an interesting character that goes with the theme of the overall post. His description is just as messy as the room. When the character sees him it is as if she is looking at a mirror image of herself. The way he is “passed out with just a sheet, drool forming a shallow pool below his chin,” is how the character is going to look as well. The image to the side of the paragraph also helps with moving the story forward. The reader is drawn to the picture first before the author continues with the descriptive narrative which serves to further emphasize on the mess. The picture also shows how the light beams through the room just the way the author describes it.
The author is very talented when it comes to similes and metaphors that continue to be seen with the illustration of where the character wishes to be. After which the author adds a couple more pictures of nature and a video of a waterfall with relaxing music. The picture with the sunlight barely peeking through the branches indicates the “real light,” mention previous. However, I did not understand the concept of the water fall. Or why a waterfall was particular chosen when the author only mentions light. A more effective video would have been a sunset or sunrise with relaxing music or nature sound effects. But then again the water could symbolize purity and cleanness contrasting with the dirtiness at the end of the post.