Whisky, Women and World

Chapter 2

My dark apartment once again bathed in the warm glow of light as I tightened the bulb and kicked the stool aside. I stood there for a while, gazing across the room, trying to acclimate to the greenish hue it now emitted. Previously, the room had been covered in a soft orange, reminiscent of sunshine. Now, it felt as if I were in a deserted bar where the chaotic human who loved to dance had forgotten to visit.

I removed my shirt and threw it on the bed, then walked over to my table to jot down one last thought. This idea occurred to me while purchasing the green bulb to replace the old one that had stopped working. I absentmindedly placed a cigarette between my lips, allowing it to dangle there, unlit. My fingers pressed down on the typewriter keys with determination, my touch gentling as I grew confident that I wouldn't forget this thought again. Finally, I settled on the open windowsill, which lacked any grills, and gazed out at the city that had fallen into slumber.

I contemplated how my apartment room must appear to an observer looking up at the building—just greenish rays streaming through a five-foot-four window, illuminating a man enjoying a cigarette. Then, I picked up my draft and began to read it slowly. Everything I had written over the past three hours sounded either pathetic or like an ambulance siren blaring in my ears.

When I finished reading the eight pages I had painstakingly composed, my frustration boiled over. I had to release my anger somehow, so I spat on the draft. Unsatisfied, I plucked the cigarette from my lips and started to burn the corners of the pages one by one. Some of the papers I let float into the air outside the window, where they twirled and danced in the wind, while others scattered within my room. The slowly smoldering pages resembled a lantern festival, albeit in reverse. The empty papers drifted downward, contrasting with the lanterns that soared high into the sky.

I decided to numb my frustration with some liquor. The regular wine shop would be closed, and I was already running late. Fortunately, the one next to my apartment always catered to my needs, no matter the hour. All I had to do was kick the shutter, shout at the top of my lungs, or create a scene. Initially, the shopkeeper would respond with curses, but then, as he made his way to the window of his room on the first floor, he would greet and ask me to wait.

As with every other night, I requested a cheap whisky and handed over the cash. He rolled the bottle through the partially opened shutter and hastily closed it to avoid the prying eyes of the police. My tongue and body were accustomed to its taste, and I downed the entire bottle in less than ten seconds, standing in a narrow street behind the wine shop. I checked my pocket and was relieved to find enough cash for a few more bottles of whisky. "You're a wretched writer!" I muttered to myself as I once again kicked the shutter. That was the last thing I recalled from that fateful full moon night.

***

In the waning light of the setting sun, the sun's rays were still weak and faint, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. I jolted awake to the sight of a car zooming past just a few inches from my hair. My heart thumped as I turned to my right to see the car screeching to a halt at the red light. Catching my breath, my gaze slowly wandered to the sky. The birds twittered and a tiny airplane flying off into the horizon. I looked around and quickly realized where I was. Lying on the sidewalk, in the middle of a busy city street, bustling with people, cars, and activity. I watched with my blurred vision as cars sped by, honking their horns, and people walked down the sidewalk, their conversations overlapping. The place was an absolute mess. The streets were filled with garbage and the air was thick with urine stench. Despite the municipality's efforts, it seemed like the filth was here to stay, as if it had become part of the landscape. Luxury cars drove past this mess with aplomb, their shiny exteriors glistening in the evening sun. Between this beauty and the mess, I lay there like another piece of garbage, realizing I had survived another day.