The Silent Room

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Small Talk:
Pardon the terrible lack of updates and the dry staleness of this blog. Life has been really, really hectic, but hopefully I can share the full story with you soon. Also, I’ve been without a proper internet connection for almost 2 months now.

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I walked through the narrow corridor outside my room into a moderately-sized empty space, supposedly meant to be a living room. I turned right towards the balcony, behind a 3-piece sliding glass that door opened wide to a deep blue dusk. On one side lay a low table, a sleek, white block of fiberwood mounted on a metal-grey IKEA frame, lending its 92cm breadth to random papers and coffee stains. Right next to it is a nice old Persian carpet, spread out two meters by four meters on the floor, dominantly maroon, but dull with age. Keyword: Nice.

I tread quietly on the soft fabrics, and the hand-sewn floral motives gave way to the contours of my feet, soundlessly as one step fell after another. I turned back to see empty white walls, floors covered with white ceramic tiles with cheap faux marble patterns. I cleared my throat and the sound echoed across the wide, unfurnished space. The only thing to break the silent whiteness of it all was a plastic white kettle-jug plugged into one of the wall sockets, steam gushing out of its nozzle as the switch automatically clicks itself off.

Taking a deep breath, I looked towards a different socket on the wall. It was meant to connect to a telephone, but a brief visit to everyone’s favourite telephone service provider brought to light that no tone is coming out of that socket anytime soon – at least not until September ends. I shook my head in disappointment and stepped out into the small balcony.

Right in front of me was another building, similar to the one I’m staring out of. Angling my neck up a few degrees and I spotted my favourite item – a unit with all its windows and sliding doors covered with aluminium foil. My mates and I suspect a grow-op running in there, but we decided to leave it at that. Mysteries aren’t so much fun if the truth revealed itself too soon.

Shrieks and cries of children brought eyes down below. A modest playground to the left, littered with toddlers running around. Right down the middle is a gazebo, and from the eighth floor I could see feminine sandals peeking out of the roof’s rim. I presume there would be housewives and domestic helpers looking after the children. Or perhaps exchanging gossip. Or perhaps both. To the right is a two-sectioned pool, one shallow section for toddlers to wade in, and a bigger, 1.5m deep rectangular pool. Tiled in plain blue, with no fancy decorative patterns, and from where I stood, the tiles appear to have a light yellowish tint. I guess you can say I won’t be swimming in there anytime soon.

A cool evening breeze blew past me, gently lifting the maroon curtains brought in by one of the mates. My cheeks felt a light tingle and I took another long, deep breath. The air was surprisingly clean, perhaps because the complex is quite far from any major roads and that it’s sitting atop a hill. Levelling my head, I looked left to see a pale yellow sun shying away behind the deep orange horizon. Feeling satisfied, I turned around and headed back inside.

Over a two-by-four Persian carpet, its thick, dyed fabrics dulled with age.
Past a stained IKEA coffee table that calmly sat next to it.
Into a modest, unfurnished, boring living room.
A lone kettle sitting at the side, piping hot.

Keyword: Nice.