Every weekend I make it my business to find decrepit houses to visit.
I always imagine buying them all for their eerie atmosphere and old trees. There’s nothing rational about my desire. But then, I console myself that there’s nothing rational about any desire. I keep going.
Today I visit an old house that’s for sale for the land. ‘Demolish the house,’ the real estate agents instruct, ‘cut down all the trees and the wilderness that grew overboard,’ they further instruct. This is their sale’s argument. Their strong rationality.
I search for these houses according to what the agents think is a good idea to do. The more they describe the house in terms of ‘too much green’, the more I imagine buying the place and leave it exactly as I find it. Just to spite them.
Sometimes I take my sword to these places and do a protective dance: ‘No one will cut you down’, I tell the trees. ‘If they dare, they’ll meet this blade’. I’m probably cursing the potential customers who’ll act on cutting the trees exactly as suggested. There’s lots of power in the ‘neat place’.
I came home today and I asked the cards:
What attracts me to these houses?
The Popess, the Pope, the Sun
I opened my mouth to deliver a sentence, but before any words came out, my partner declared: ‘obviously because you want to live in a church.’
‘Yes, yes, but you don’t get naked in the church, as here, and that’s what I want. I want the church that’s a protected garden so that you can go naked in it.’
So, yes, one of these days, either I act upon saving the trees myself, or else I’ll leave it to my katana to do the job.
Enjoy your weekends with all that’s in it, blessings and curses alike.
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