The Living Statue

3.

I was sitting by the window in my small loft, observing the beautiful watercolour of Autumn London lingering before my eyes. Everything looked so small up from here - people resembled ants, buildings seemed like a chaotic bunch of Lego toys and trees...well trees were something completely different. It seemed as if they had removed their terrible burdens and exposed themselves for the whole world to see - to see their true selves, bare and fragile and vulnerable. Trees aren't different from people. No, it is funny really, how similar we are to those gigantic things, seemingly dead. Everyday we put on our masks, our costumes, before we leave our little caves, and we represent ourselves completely different from who we really are. We represent ourselves as sturdy, unbreakable, fierce but inside there is a whole lot more; inside, there is a part of us that we'd like to keep to ourselves, in order to avoid getting hurt. And once or twice a year, just like our dear nature fellows, we take off those costumes and let ourselves be who we truly are.

I guess that is why I love Autumn so much. But what I love even more is my cosy, little appartment where I can be my true self - messy and geeky and weird.

I turned around from the window, taking in the sight of my chaotic, industrial appartment in front of me. The walls were made of brick, bare, without final layer, covered to the brim with greatest paintings this world had been blessed with. Of course, those were all copies, because I couldn't afford originals, but at the end of the day it didn't really matter, because they were just as beautiful. They matched colorful carpets, which covered white, wooden floor, perfectly. Ever since I lay my eyes upon this appartment I fell in love with its high ceilings and enormous windows that allow light at every time of the day. But what I love the most about it, thought, is my little corner fully equipped for photography. I developed that passion since a very young age, which probably explains why my whole appartment is covered with all kinds of photographs, mine and those of famous photographers. It is just something that feeds the soul.

"Open the door you idiot, it's locked!"

I turned to look at the front door where the sound was coming from, realisation hitting me like a thunder.

Shoot! I forgot my friends were coming over!

"I'm coming," I called as I made my way towards the steel, double door. They kept banging on it, just to piss me off. "Alright, alright I'm here, Jeez..." I muttered, unlocking the door and thrusting it open.

My best friends, Caroline and Lena, stood on the doorway, their hands stuffed with all kinds of gross snacks. Actually, three of their hands were occupied, while Caroline was holding one behind her back.

I wondered how they managed to bang on the door while holding all that junk food.

"I brought you something," Caroline said mysteriously, but to be honest, there was nothing mysterious about the way she held a hand behind her back. There were two reasons for such behavior - either she brought some weed or she was just trying to get us drunk.

"Let me guess," I leaned on the doorframe, raising my eyebrow at her, "Merlot?"

"Oh c'mon," she whined, dissapointed. "How did you know? Are you psychic?"

Lena chuckled as they made their way to the large, concrete kitchen island and I locked the door behind them. Two times, just in case.

"Care, you always bring Marlot," I chuckled as I planted myself in one of the bar chairs and my friends started arranging snacks in small, ceramic bowls. Caroline took out three wine glasses and placed them on the kitchen island.

"So, how was your day, Miss Adventurer," Lena asked, opening the wine and filling our glasses much more than necessary.

Caroline gladly accepted the topic, her eyes sparkling with mad curiosity. "I completely forgot! You went to that company today, didn't you," she leaned over the counter, her buldged eyes threatening to pop out any second.