blasting calmpublished: 2012-04-11
Her shoulders tighten at the sight of a construction drill. Her mood sinks. Not only have a dozen black men opened up the pavement right in front of her holiday apartment, the unforgiving sound of multiple sandpapering machines blast out of windows in the building right next door. From across the street comes the intrusive bang of a hammer where yet snother house is being built. She is closed in by noise. Her heart palpitates and she wants to leave right now, run, complain. Not even complain, no, just book herself a five-star-hotel and not bother anyone with her annoyancies.
But hold on just a minute, she thinks as she opens the door to her apartment. How bad is this really? She glances leftward and greets the man who is kicking a rotted window frame. Hard. She waves, instead of rushing inside, closing the doors and curtains, switching on the aircon hoping to shut the world out. Why not lean over her balcony for a moment? Simply stand there and study what is going on, perhaps light up a cigarette. The dynamics are interesting. She can figure out who is doing what and why. The men start looking like actual people.
The owner of her apartment hotel comes out looking concerned, hands on his hips. She says, "well I suppose the "relaxing tranquility" is over now right?" and she laughs. He laughs too. Suddenly she feels as if she has all the time in the world. The owner explains they are taking away a lantarn that was blocking guests' views. Next to them, people are building a restaurant, living their dreams. And the house across the street? Some rich guy decided to build a home for the drug addicts in the area because they had taken such good care of his property while he was away. Without stealing anything.
"That's lovely," she says.
"It is isn't it?" and the two of them stand there for a while longer, leaning over the balcony, smiling.