It must have been around November of last year that I started feeding the pigeons. It was definitely winter and I remember feeling sorry for myself, that’s why I sat in the cold. And then, in the cold, I felt sorry for the birds. Most of them looked very thin, particularly the white one. They looked as if they were freezing.
My colleagues are rather unpleasant to me. They care about things like sports and movies and the previous and next nights of drinking while I rather spend my evenings quietly, maybe with friends and a bottle of wine or else alone with a good book.
No matter how sad or weird it might sound, the pigeons made me feel loved. Sharing my bread or couscous with them somehow seemed as if my existence and the dull days of spreadsheets and angry customer calls meant something. So since November, or maybe it was already October, I spent most of my lunch hours with them. Continue reading →
“Look,” Jeremy said. “I know how high rents normally are. I’m letting the room below market value. I have just one condition.”
“What?” I asked.
“Can I trust you?” he asked.
“Good. My only condition is that you never step into the third bedroom.”
“I guess that’s okay.”
“I’m serious. The door is locked anyway, so don’t even try. But no matter what you hear or smell or see, no matter what happens, even if the door is unlocked – you can never open the door. And especially you can never step inside.”