silence is the air here
I close the door
and feel the handle vibrating
inside my grip
a tram is coming along the street
on the other side of my flat
taking people to different places
they want to
or need to
reach
It takes me eight steps to approach the window
it’s the longest one-way walk possible in this room
I rest my hands on the windowsill
the tree leaves below me
seem to form a green whispering tapestry
I could step onto
were I not an inhabitant of the reality I know and was taught
it’s a broad look from the fourth floor
while my neighbours’ dog is barking down there
a threesome going for a walk together
while passing through the room
I forgot to look at objects from the times
spent in other spaces
gifts from my international friends
some of whom I haven’t seen for long
staring in the faces of the doll and plush animals
makes me feel cosy and loved
then suddenly sad
I miss looking into real eyes
underneath there are books
not enough of them some could say
but one of the shelves is for
the borrowed-from-the-library guests
so the bookscape transforms regularly
if that’s allowed
yet another shelf hosts multimodal literature
this one goes by its own rules
opposite the bookcase there’s the computer screen
with thousands of words on it
written by me, my supervisor and my students
inviting me to engage in the infinite reading editing scrolling
still
silence is the air in here
I like to experiment with it
when I finish work
I shout out to my sister
in her home office in the other room
or invite a friend from across the street
I play some music
in a city flat a small speaker suffices
to fill the whole space with sounds
I may even dance
let my body find its way
through the invisible particles
or rain visits me
rushes loudly through the old pipes outside
knocks on my window
and covers it with multiple droplets
Katarzyna Biela is writing a PhD about theatre and multimodal literature in the Institute of English Studies at the Jagiellonian University in Kraków, Poland.