HOME: A SERIES OF DIALOGUES

I.
But are you afraid of flying?
No, it's not flying that I fear. It's crashing into the Atlantic Ocean.
I know what you mean. Once, I was flying alone and the plane had to make an emergency landing. I remember looking out the window and seeing nothing but blackness. I was scared like you. I thought: I'd rather crash and burn in a city full of lights, than go down in the middle of the Pacific and be swallowed immediately by all that cold, anonymous darkness.

II.
I can pack my entire life in two suitcases.
Ah, that's the way to do it.
I've moved sixteen times in the last four years. There's no need for furniture: Just some clothes, a few good books and my music.
You see, that's smart. I always act like I intend to stay longer than I do. I buy cheap furniture at Ikea that I assemble in the apartment. Then, when the time comes to move again, I find out that I can't take my armoire with me because it won't fit through the narrow space between my front door and the outer hall. It's a sign, no? All this unnecessary assembling and disassembling. Next time, I'll just stick with curtains.

III.
Why did you pack your curtains already? You have another six days in this apartment.
You think there's a method to this unnatural process? You're lucky I even packed a box.
Well I'm not sleeping with you in this room, so you can stop trying to unbutton my shirt. Your neighbors are watching.
Oh, I'm sure they've seen me naked at this point. I walk around in my underwear all the time--with or without curtains. And besides, I'm moving in six days.

IV.
Look at this room. Isn't it the saddest room in the world now?
It certainly isn't yours anymore.
The walls look so big and threatening now that they're bare. I can't stand to look at all that whiteness.
Don't look at the walls. Look at me. I'm still here.

V.
Is this what they mean by being young and carefree without a mortgage to pay off?