The doorknob and the square

Playing and feeling with thinking

Doorknob. Knob. Yes that is an extremely funny word in my mind. Gnoh. Bh. Gnnnnn.. Feels like honey behind my nose. 😑

"Haha this is so stupid!" a spontaneous thought erupts. 👈 Mmm the laughter is energizing.. But the thought is tainted with shame and guilt. It bubbles up more... Stomach. Guilt. Uilt. Blää. 😫

A hairy raisin. With wrinkles. Warm. Witchy. Reminds me of a piano teacher I once had. Swollen fingers. She smellt like coffee. Smellt ☝️

Quintessence. Farfalle. Posh elderly lady. Rrringing. Doorbell. 🔔 There is even a church bell ringing outside. Can you hear it? What a wonderful sound as the doves all at once take flight. Dove flapping.

On a bench a man remains. He is reading his newspaper on this overcast day. Calmly.

"This scene must be old. It has been centuries since anyone was calm", an anxious narrator interrupts. Rush rush rush. He paints busses and escalators. Cars honking and hundreds of people criss-crossing over the square. Three lane traffic encircling the plaza. An impressive majestic arch in the center. A screaming market place. People selling fruits and batteries and flowers and... churros.

Rush rush rush. In the corner, on the red bench, in the deafening noise, sits our gentleman. Calmly reading his newspaper. A statue. Is he a statue? IS HE A STATUE? Our narrator doesn't know how to behave around this man..

No... He is breathing. Just veeeeerily slowly compared to your breath.

What would happen, if you would slow down to his rhythm? If you would breathe with him?

The traffic calms. Engines begin to turn off. Even the busses' diesel engines choke one by one to a rustling stop. The sound of hundreds of leather soles rushing over the stone square.. But something is off and they all start to notice it. The market place has gone silent. The criss-crossing men and women slow down. An unsure clippery clappery clop.. to a hesitant stop. With gray faces from underneath dark brimmed hats, they slowly look up and shyly look around. Hundreds of estranged men and women who for the first time find themselves.. hearing their own heartbeat.

It is all quiet. Everyone is holding their breath. Only one car has left its blinker on and it ticks steadily.

And... our gentleman in the corner.. chuckles softly.

Photo by Tadas Petrokas on Unsplash

That was a new kind of sharing for this newsletter. It felt very playful to write it 🥳 I think partly it is inspired by a Wes Anderson movie I saw yesterday (Asteroid City). It is similar in its freedom from the constraint of... making sense. Does it become more interesting as we become more direct and make less sense? Or is it then a waste of our precious meaningful time?

Until next time,
Alexander