CHAPTER 4
THE SOFA
Driving has always calmed me.
That’s when ideas arrive,
when the mind finally settles.
But now you know something isn’t right.
You know how to drive.
You know how to open a door.
And still, you don’t know if it will open.
You look at the mirror.
You see nothing.
The steering wheel is gone.
Where is the car?
You hear horns.
An ambulance.
People crying.
You look around.
Who are you?
What do you see?
Your sofa.
In the middle of the street.
People watch you.
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They laugh.
You feel a strange pull –
the urge to go back,
to feel at home again.
But you can’t.
Where is the car?
Where did the sofa end up?
In front of you,
a mirror.
A distorted reflection.
Is that me?
You stare at it. It doesn’t move.
You touch it. It doesn’t move.
It laughs.
Everyone laughs.
Why is it so funny?
The switch is there,
inside the mirror.
Now I’m no longer on the sofa,
but the reflection has changed.
Why don’t I see myself the same way?
Advice: read the text while listening to the song “INERBLOOM” by RUFUS DU SOL
