Whether you call it a coincidence or whatever, every house that I and my family have moved in, there’s always an under-construction building growing up beside us. So to wake up early every morning, you don’t possibly need to have an alarm clock because the sound of hammering the stones and bricks, does it all for you.
Someone might have said someday that it’s wise to look at things from two different views. So this afternoon when I was sitting alone on my balcony, I looked at the roofless, cement-based apartment other than just a ‘noisy-under-construction concrete building’ as an open place, inviting in various birds playing with dust and flying across the broken bricks and steep bamboos. I could see all these through because there are no walls built yet. I could see the structure of a building, the rooms which are soon going to be occupied by people and their elegant furniture. The dry, grey walls won’t be dry anymore. They will be polished in different shiny liquid colors.
That’s when I look back into my room and see all the colorful stuffs that I’ve decorated it with. All the family photo frames hanging into the walls, my computer, my clothes, my books, in short a little part of me. But then again I am forced to think how this was like before I invaded in, wasn’t it like the lifeless empty structure that I’m sitting in front of today? Wasn’t it a reunion place for the bats at the night or a place where the sun could pass its rays through in the morning?
Sometimes that empty space really seems creepy to me, when it’s too dark at the night. It feels like those concretes are craving for some human touch. All you can wish then is that someone soon comes in and turns that wall-less empty structure into a home, sweet home.