Quiltland

At night, discreet noises begin to fill the house. The sound of a door hinge waking to life, the thin croak of a staircase, the soft gasp of the refrigerator, the bleep of a TV being turned on. Lying on a sofa in front of the screen, there are bodies strewn around doing the same. Silent, restless bodies. Law And Order: Special Victims Unit is glaring from the screen, the dialogue of the characters the only audible voices in the room. A rich girl has been murdered in a park. The investigation leads to a group of homeless children looked after by a street-dwelling couple acting as their parents. Soon cracks in their solidarity appear and they start betraying and testifying against one another. Each body lying in the room watching the TV has a reason for being there. One is there because he fears that his body getting older, and would like to delay the beginning of the next day as much as possible. One has just drank coffee and can’t keep still in bed. One is worried that his significant other might be unfaithful and is trying to keep himself distracted from thinking about it. One is a fan of the program and doesn’t miss an episode. One is unsatisfied at his workplace. Special victims in their own way. It is not possible to make out any faces in the room, just silhouettes sprawled against the upholstery in different positions, and pairs of eyes peering through the darkness like lonely little light bulbs. Nor is it possible to know how many people occupy it, their age or sex. There is a constant ebb and flow of bodies going in and out, lying down, sniffling their nose from time to time, making an inadvertent pop of a joint as they change position, shifting their blanket around, leaving up the stairs again. The light from the screen breaks into three shards momentarily as a pair of legs walk across it. There is enough space for everyone and the room doesn’t feel crowded. There might be thousands of people and thousands of sofas, but, again, it is impossible to say exactly how many.  Everyone is polite and considerate of the fact that they are not alone. Everyone practices good hygiene and there is no dominant odor permeating the room. There is a bleary-eyed understanding between them.  No one reaches for the remote control. By morning time the room will be empty as they will all be gone to their respective places.

Quiltlands Kimberly Wagner - Untitled 1