Holiday in Colorado

rag_and_bone, remember that time I visited you and S. in Denver? It was a beautiful summer, and I remember how lovely the orange brick houses on your street looked in the heat of the day.

You left me alone in your home until your mother showed up. She walked from one room to the next, looking for something, bustling with activity, cool in a pencil skirt. I never imagined her to have short, gray hair. I had my camera strapped around my neck; I thought it would be best to wait outside for you and S.

I guess one of my biggest surprises in Denver was to notice how narrow each street was, with buildings bunched up against each other and painted in various colours. I thought of the one across from your house - you know, the one without any windows - and of how S. and you should project films onto it at night and create a spontaneous cinema for the neighbourhood.

You took so long to join me outside, I started worrying. A friend of yours came by and eyed me suspiciously before knocking on your door. She had long curly hair and a puggish nose. She distracted me enough to make me lose my bearings; when she walked away, I wasn't sure anymore which house was yours. I couldn't even find the windowless building. If I turned one street corner, I drifted further away from you. It was then that I walked into an alley filled with pomegranate trees. I had to squeeze my way past the hanging fruits only to discover, to my horror, that wasps buzzed around each one of them. One bit me just below my left elbow. I bled; I shook myself like a Saint Bernard dog; I couldn't stop their attacks.