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2005 11 18
Montréal Walkups: No. 6
By Lance Blomgren

Image: Charles Charles Chalmers

48 Haliburton

Until the orange juice hit the back of his throat, he had no idea how dry his throat actually was. How can I love you in the shape I’m in? He stood on the front balcony awhile to catch his breath, then walked through the many small rooms of the apartment to the back balcony. The architect of this building designed each room of the apartment to have its own narrative progression, like a story. Oddly, he placed all the narrative tension at both ends of the apartment, namely the balconies, rather than in the rooms themselves. This was the architect’s last building before committing suicide. The inhabitant finds him- or herself drawn to these structures, but at the expense of the rest of the rooms, which are rendered lifeless and anticlimactic. Coming in off the balcony, the present occupant finds himself strangely bored and disappointed with the interior as if, like a mediocre novel, the momentum of the apartment has come to an abrupt halt. He pours some more orange juice. Within minutes, he is drawn back to the balconies, the view of Mount Royal, the city’s sidewalkscape, staircases and frontyard gardens, passers-by and traffic. Bearing the weight of laziness. It’s becoming a problem. The plants by the front window are wilted and dead. The dog dish is dry, and the puppy sways on its legs. The gun over the mantle remains untouched, never to appear in the story again.
[email this story] Posted by David Ross on 11/18 at 06:03 AM

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