Text by Ane Lan
Photo: Aurora E. Sandlilje
THOSE PEOPLE:
She was first able to remember the word when she was up there in front of those people. Taste it between her lips, savour the thin salty flavour. Only then could she understand what the word meant to her, goose-bumps on her arms and the lower part of her legs. A row of deeper understanding when whispered even trumpeted through her lips. It was those people that received the message.
She was very proud of herself, a whole month had gone by building. She even had to quit her job in the bakery to do it. Not a total continous month though, once a week she would go out for groceries and her medications. She learned how to plan properly so that her supplies lasted for one week exactly and by selectively choosing proteins from lentils and carbs from root veggies, she was able to lower her food budget. She had already made the calculations, it was the first step. Frankly, the weekly excursion outside also gave her a moment of excersise, even though it was only for the old man at the market or the local pharmacist. She could move her lips and smear her tongue toward the upper part of her palate but they would not give any response, so she could only imagine that they were part of those people.
Secure inside her room, after organizing the contents of her shopping bag she would position herself in the bed. She had learned how to do it from the three day course at the library. She saw the notice one day when she was picking up a book, self realization through meditation. There was only a few participants in the course and she was happy to find it so relaxing and free from stress and social pretentions. The teacher had himself spent one month doing the meditation at a camp in India and his colorful cloths still smelled from old incense and sweet dust. He told her to find a note or a sound, and then a word that she should keep repeating. It felt kind of a very strange thing to do and at first she could not concentrate on anything other than the smell he left around her. But he insisted that she kept searching for a sound. After the third day she suddenly thought about the thin whistling sound of a tea kettle boiling.... It had always been a sound she was afraid of.
She was given the third act in the program. It was only a local pub, the back room was not really anything more than a coal brown storage space stacked with empty beer cans up the walls. Only an old furry sofa and an IKEA cloth hanger was serving the people waiting. Though the air was thick and nervous, and she had to cram in between the other warm bodies, she felt safe. They were the other people. Even before she was called, she noticed the distinctly salty taste rising up her throat. It followed her through the little corridor and up the podium. The announcer left his warm hand for a second on her shoulder as he adjusted the stand according to her height, he knew it was her first time. She had to suck in air five times through her nose, let the salty sense inside overcome the breath of stingy malt from the glasses. Then she could hear the thin sound, very distant at first, but as it approached her feet she could feel the tickling electricity as it entered her body. Rising out through her legs, her pelvis, up the spine, filling her stomach with shivering warm gel, growing into her torso, into her arms, stronger than they had ever been, rising, growing, filling her up to the soft throat pit. The word was forming there, growing on top of a wave of goose bumps. Until she could not hold back. It erupted. Spurted out. Flung towards them. Embracing them in knowledge. She knew, when she cut the word's last breath and closed her lips numb, that she was now part of those people.
www.anelan.com
She was first able to remember the word when she was up there in front of those people. Taste it between her lips, savour the thin salty flavour. Only then could she understand what the word meant to her, goose-bumps on her arms and the lower part of her legs. A row of deeper understanding when whispered even trumpeted through her lips. It was those people that received the message.
She was very proud of herself, a whole month had gone by building. She even had to quit her job in the bakery to do it. Not a total continous month though, once a week she would go out for groceries and her medications. She learned how to plan properly so that her supplies lasted for one week exactly and by selectively choosing proteins from lentils and carbs from root veggies, she was able to lower her food budget. She had already made the calculations, it was the first step. Frankly, the weekly excursion outside also gave her a moment of excersise, even though it was only for the old man at the market or the local pharmacist. She could move her lips and smear her tongue toward the upper part of her palate but they would not give any response, so she could only imagine that they were part of those people.
Secure inside her room, after organizing the contents of her shopping bag she would position herself in the bed. She had learned how to do it from the three day course at the library. She saw the notice one day when she was picking up a book, self realization through meditation. There was only a few participants in the course and she was happy to find it so relaxing and free from stress and social pretentions. The teacher had himself spent one month doing the meditation at a camp in India and his colorful cloths still smelled from old incense and sweet dust. He told her to find a note or a sound, and then a word that she should keep repeating. It felt kind of a very strange thing to do and at first she could not concentrate on anything other than the smell he left around her. But he insisted that she kept searching for a sound. After the third day she suddenly thought about the thin whistling sound of a tea kettle boiling.... It had always been a sound she was afraid of.
She was given the third act in the program. It was only a local pub, the back room was not really anything more than a coal brown storage space stacked with empty beer cans up the walls. Only an old furry sofa and an IKEA cloth hanger was serving the people waiting. Though the air was thick and nervous, and she had to cram in between the other warm bodies, she felt safe. They were the other people. Even before she was called, she noticed the distinctly salty taste rising up her throat. It followed her through the little corridor and up the podium. The announcer left his warm hand for a second on her shoulder as he adjusted the stand according to her height, he knew it was her first time. She had to suck in air five times through her nose, let the salty sense inside overcome the breath of stingy malt from the glasses. Then she could hear the thin sound, very distant at first, but as it approached her feet she could feel the tickling electricity as it entered her body. Rising out through her legs, her pelvis, up the spine, filling her stomach with shivering warm gel, growing into her torso, into her arms, stronger than they had ever been, rising, growing, filling her up to the soft throat pit. The word was forming there, growing on top of a wave of goose bumps. Until she could not hold back. It erupted. Spurted out. Flung towards them. Embracing them in knowledge. She knew, when she cut the word's last breath and closed her lips numb, that she was now part of those people.
www.anelan.com