A stranger in a stranger’s room

I gazed with eyes big as saucers at the painting on the wall in front of me. The spiral’s
circles and the women swimming in their curves started to whisper to me to come closer, and
then slowly started to motion towards the center of the painting, with it’s orange, red, white
beautiful colors singing an odd flavored melancholic tune that rang its chords flamboyant in
the firm brush strokes of the artist’s will.

I suddenly broke from this mysterious visage and found myself standing in her room. I
had dropped acid three hours earlier, and I told George that I wanted him to show me more
of his housemate’s works of art. The first two of her drawings that I saw were a couple of
portraits hanged on one of the walls in the living room, just above the red sofa and bean bags
around it. I thought at first that they were actually photographs, but George confirmed that
they were drawings. He guided me in the enormous apartment to a room, and showed me
the acrylic painting that stole my mind’s eye attention for what I think felt like half an hour.

When I looked to my left, I saw her messy bed, with the grey quilt tossed chaotically
aside and one of the pillows crumpled. The shadows that formed in the creases contrasted
powerfully and created landscapes in mind mind. I felt that she had left in a hurry. Probably
she had left early in the morning, I thought, and had no time to tidy it up.

While I sat on the black stool, a couple of her clothes, which were hanging to my left,
brushed against my overcoat. I could feel some of her perfume, mixed with her scent that was
still lingering in her room, even though she had departed it over a week ago. Her perfume,
although I didn’t know exactly what it was, felt very similar to one that I like from Cacharele. I
grabbed the sleeve of one of her blouses and inhaled. Acid does an odd thing to your brain,
and that’s called synesthesia. Your senses start to speak to each other, and you can hear the
colors that you see shouting or whispering at you, or you can feel the gentle vibration of a
sparrow’s song on you arm, or you can smell and see the scent’s aura shining against your
own.

I wondered, “Does she have any idea that now, on New Year’s Eve, a complete
stranger, someone whom she had never seen in her life, is looking at her messy bed, her
jewelry on her make-up table, her art? That a stranger has just felt her scent and perfume on
her clothes?” and closed my eyes for a moment to glimpse again at the intricate fractals of
energy that flew in my mind’s eye as it twinkled and gazed mystically from realms far beyond
the day-to-day mundane life.

It’s magical to think that you can know people by never meeting them.

“Are you alright in here?” asked George, as he entered the room through the open
door.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I answered him, as I gently opened my eye lids and turned my head
to the right to look at him.

“Don’t you want to come back to the living room?”

“Wanna smoke another joint?”

“Sure, I’ll roll it,” answered George, and then quickly turned around and left.