Objects on the Rooftop
They are occupying every corner like quiet guards of the place. These objects own this house. The piles of clothing, piles of boxes, piles of fabrics quietly tucked in the corners of the rooms. Dysfunctional electronics, drawers that don?t open properly, books and photographs lying and hanging about the interior... The place is far from being organized. The objects are piled up on top of each other without any system – perhaps they do have one, but its reasoning is not obvious to the outsider. They may seem neglected at first, but then I realized that each of them is in its own perfect zone. It is permanent. They will be there as long as the house stands on this ground. As long as their stubborn owner keeps them alive.
I thought I knew about this place after so many years of longing for return. It is puzzling to realize that I am only a visitor after all, no matter how strongly I feel attached to the idea of this house. One afternoon, I became aware of tremendous unfamiliarity that I was surrounded with – when you are truly at home, you are not supposed to feel this way. Objects do not stare at you or get under your nerve like this, do they? I became attracted to them, precisely because of this reason. They were mysteriously familiar but undeniably unfamiliar at the same time. They became active, independent entities that have their own life behind and beyond my time.