HOME | POLITICS | SPORTS | LIFE | SCI/TECH | OPEDS | HELPFUL TIPS
|
Dec. 23, 2006 It was a warehouse, grand, and there were carpets along the back, sticking out of boxes. They were frayed a bit here or there, but otherwise in good condition. Carpets were expensive, and these were good prices, and not bad designs, not bad colors, some earth tones, some vaguely Aztec or Southwestern something or other. There were also lots of soaps, and bath things, and towels, as there usually are in such places. It had that smell around, that you couldn’t call bad, and have reason to walk away from, but that lingers in products and boxes that have come so far. It is better when there is no smell at all, like the idea that you are not supposed to notice a ceiling, and that that is why residential ceilings are painted white. There were no walls, and it was an open concept, but not a concept all, just a place with no walls, and it was family run, and the people were Sri Lanken, or Pakistani, or something close to that, with a kind woman around, who sold perfumes and colognes, that were cheap knockoffs of the real thing, and it was gray outside and it rained and rained. There were clocks, and posters, and watches for next to nothing, and some of them were already broken, and that was the trick, to see a broken item before it was even bought. There were fans, and lights, and everything was half-way done, meaning the floor was only cement, and the various signs around the cash and front desk were drawn by hand, and stuck with tape, and some things were even displayed on the walls, and everything was slightly crooked and a bit dark somehow, figuratively and literally, because the place had poor and dim lighting, and, as mentioned, no great rays of sun came from the windows and such an overcast day. But there was something real, and a comfort and non-judgment, and one could breathe, breathe in the poor ventilation and funny stale air, that most people turn their noses up at, preferring more established places, where you could feel one of the many and one like the many. But in such places the soul was squeezed out panicked, and often even deadened, whereas here, the soul was happier, and it was an intuition, that the world had gone too far, and become too compartmentalized. There were other things there too, like cheap pillows, and it was surprising that anyone could seriously make a pillow so thin, so, well, outright badly, as a newspaper or a piece of cardboard seemed like it could serve the purpose better. There was a pile of mailboxes to delight, and they were huge, and tin, and made with the red lever that goes up and down, and they were bright and inspiring, bulky and real, and this was goodness, something of a find. The display model was there, and when examined, the mailbox held up to scrutiny, and was something worthwhile. They knew this when they made it, as they left a square cut out in the top of each mailbox box, so that one could see and touch the tin, and the tin was shiny, and had straight lines in it, and begged to be seen a little bit. You could even be inclined to tap it lightly with your knuckle, and approve of something, and not know exactly why. Overhead a few fans had blades still spinning about a bit, circulating a bit of good stale air, in the grand warehouse, which sat under the crying sky. ------------ Email Brian Michael Barbeito: Brian1750@Hotmail.com Comment on this article here! ------------ All articles are EXCLUSIVE to Useless-Knowledge.com and are not allowed to be posted on other websites. ARTICLE THIEVES WILL BE PROSECUTED! |
||||||
|
|
|||||||
|
