When my husband asked me why I chose this apartment, I answered: its silence was a challenge. We have lived in many different houses over the last few years. There was suspenseful waiting. The boxes seemed like a fortress in the hall and in the basement. There is a bachelor sailor living downstairs. We have only seen him twice. He travels all the time. Until last year, an old dancer used to live in the apartment upstairs. He had lived in Paris for most of his life, but he returned to Athens to spend his final days. Hekicked thebucket six months ago. His apartment has been untenanted ever since. At times all this silence can be cruel. Now that we need to stay at home, we bear our trivial sounds like rocks that end up at the bottom of the sea. But that was so, until two days ago, when footsteps and music were heard from upstairs. I wasn’t wrong: rhythmicsteps and classical music, yes, that was what I heard. And again yesterday. And again now. Someone is dancing, I can’t be wrong. I went upstairs without saying anything to my husband. The music faded and the steps were gone. When I gotback home, it all started again. My husband told me he couldn’t hear a thing. But I am certain: rhythmic steps and classical music. I’m thinking that if tomorrow I start hearing the splash of waves coming from the sailor’s apartment we will have to move again pretty soon. Until then, I’ll be dancing alone in the bathroom.
Translation: Vaso Lappa
Editing: Vasiliki Misiou, Kleopatra Elaiotriviari, Maria Filippou
Photo: Sylvia Kouveli http://sylviakouveli.com/