Tuesday, September 11, 2012

The Apartment

The apartment is where he wrote. Inspired by the white walls and yellow stains running down the corner of the walls. He had ripped out the carpet and rolled it up, placing it in the corner of his living room. Now, the apartment, empty, cold hard floor, rusted pipes, boarded up windows, the man was happy.

This man, like many other men who owned apartments, had a name. That name was Leonardo, and that was what people called him, especially when they were greeting him. It was very normal for people to say "hello Leonardo, how are you?" and of course he would always reply "I am myself, and how I do not know." At first this would surprise most people but then after about three times, without failure, that response was given, those people would too accept him for who he is and how he responds to greetings.

One day after a long day of perfectly taring apart his apartment, Leonardo realized why he felt the need to destroy his apartment. And then he forgot. But what he had realized was that apartment, sounds like a mixture of "apart" and "fragment". But unfortunately, he then became extremely occupied in hitting plywood with a hammer.

This plywood wouldn't break. Leonardo frowned deeply at it. The wood, splintered and dented but not split. So he frowned at it again, "break, wood, break!" the plywood stood as a whole, immune to his psychic abilities that obviously seem to work on everything except this particular piece of plywood. He then beat at it an different angles, looking for a weakness, looking for a breaking point. The wood showed no pain, but instead the dents gave it the look of an unbreakable fortress that is worn down by years of determination.

Leonardo's aspiring determination to destroy, was challenged by this inanimate object, and he scowled intently at it.

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