Electra’s dictionary/the following scene; (past the noir) confessions, deflections

 

~“Give your evidence,” said the King; “and don’t be nervous, or I’ll have you executed on the spot.”

This did not seem to encourage the witness at all: he kept shifting from one foot to the other, looking uneasily at the Queen, and in his confusion he bit a large piece out of his teacup instead of the bread-and-butter.”—from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll~

it is later, after the video zoom chat with Paulina—which I suppose I would rather not go into for more than one or two reasons, like so many things that I find it hard to speak of, write of

like so many things on my mind and too hard to let myself even to feel —even as I know they are there; the haunting seems more endurable than having to survive the agony of the aftermath once aired and the consequences of climbing back out of the clinging bog that has often threatened to topple any resolve to —go on

it is easier to —instead, I guess —to speak of other things —as I do.... instead; easier to deflect. And to shift and veil behind; to obscure because.... I guess, I find it terribly hard to say some things even to myself, nor even let myself ....look at full-on.... and best to mind —not— to let it show

sometimes I flee

as if the devil is chasing me....

and so.... it is when I go straight after the meeting to draw a bath — I suspect Jörn sensed it because he saw me leave as soon as it was done — 

and in my wild haste I forget to shut the door behind me.... realizing I must need a bath and —kicking off my shoes with an urgency and removing my jeans, to drop, discarded onto the bathroom floor.... but stop and in some strange daze now, I just stare at nothing —still leaving on his shirt and tie that just an hour or so before he put on me in front of his closet and so I stare without seeing what I look at as I just blankly watch the water fill, leaning into the frame of the bathroom doorway and .... it must be because I am sleep deprived that my thoughts go faraway and don’t notice when Jörn appears and walks over to me. He touches me and makes me jump with a start. And when I turn, I forget to expect him to be still dressed that way; as Greta; he wears a cerulean mini dress that reaches mid thigh with fishnet stockings and go-go boots from the shipment and it is hard not to stare at him with his face made up expertly like a drag queen; his hair softly loose and ....caught in an unguarded second I reach to touch it.... touch his hair ....caught up in something there and.... without realizing I stare into his eyes —drawn to him....

awkwardly I move away. I go to the bath tub and look for the patchouli oil and pour some in and lean down to watch the water fill

He says,

“come here....” in that way and when I don’t move and just look into the water, this time more softly I hear him say,”kim hit....”

I guess maybe it is something; just something different this time in his voice that makes me stand up and without looking at him, I just go to him

But he says,

“look at me,” and pulls my face up to him. He asks me ....something .... noticing my reticence but I don’t answer and so, instead, he asks me something else that I don’t expect .... 

and then—he blurts it all out at once as if he’s been holding it back—he just says it all at once, 

“was it because you wanted to protect your mother from him ....because you thought if he beat you .... he wouldn’t beat her ....and—was it also because she disappointed you by what.... she —did— duva, it wasn’t just your sister who did that— was it? ....she did it ....too — but she is who confused you and you knew it was wrong and you couldn’t tell anyone.... because you were trying to protect her —duva, is that why.... ? you needed somewhere to tell.... but she found your diary —that is why you first created the dictionary.... isn’t it—Electra.... Oedipus?”

I feel sick 

his questions stun me and I get dizzy 

Sometimes it seems that —that closet overflows

the doors nearly bursting apart —as now with the weight of all the skeletons, it falls and bursts wide open and every inch of my skin seems to be scorched and on fire, in shame .... so long inside it feels too much to stand up, so long —holding it in to keep it from showing

and I know .... he knows that because he says this to me now as ‘Greta’ ....that this way ....he ....can 

and maybe that is why 

I search myself and ask myself: did I suspect he knew? did I not know....? no.... I really did not— I mean, I hoped he did not —and hoped he would not ever 

wished he would not ever

have to .... know

I can’t look at him, and the walls seem to warp and cave, their soot running off and all over my skin

....I did not expect such questions. Nor that he had, by now.... guessed ....as much as he has. and so ....it makes me wonder how long he has known. how much he knows. and why.... he still .... is there.... 

Why .... he is still there ....why is he.... ? why has he not .... gone

now knowing what he knows; what no one else has ever known....And maybe it is the relief of letting go of the burden.... I begin to shake 

and it is somehow no longer a shock to look at him ....now.... this way, 

even as he does not make a pretty woman but this does not lessen the impact he has to disturb me and instead I find I am, in that moment, quite suddenly more aware that there is something ....I feel.... 

”kim hit....”he says again, pulling me towards the bath, he shuts off the water, “you’re shaking, duva—let’s get into the water,” he says,”låt mig tvätta dig.” 

He turns off the lights and lights two candles and in the dimness, he undresses me, undoing the knot of his tie that I wear, when he undoes the buttons of his shirt on me, starting from the bottom, he pulls my face up to look at him, “look at me,” he says.... and when I do, he watches my eyes and face and then he touches me under the shirt —he says something ....but I don’t know the words or what they mean, but it is something I hear in the meaning in his voice that forces out the breath I have been holding and blurs my eyes and then it is the surprise of his touch that over rules everything ....even the dueling, chastising censorship of those demons within my walls, those cruel demons with their thorny fingers that never give me a moment’s peace, but for now, they seem to have lost their power, I don’t hear them ....just Jörn as he says those unknown words again and take a breath and breathe .... breathe in his familiar smell mixed with the scent he wears, I lean into him and looking up at him ....feel the need to place my hand intimately on him.... touch him —and the feeling rushes over, I climb onto him and press myself to him.... by the sink, on the edge of the counter

burlesque; the importance of being Elton

“Are you sure Lisa’s there?” I ask Jörn 

“I heard her talking in the background— he had his phone on speaker....” 

“Oh. Hmmm.... What about the secret distillery basement?”

“No, she knows about it, she was talking about it the first day when she was here, you just don’t remember,” he says

“Oh. Right. I forgot....” but then I say, “what about the extra guest room down the hall that’s become the dumping zone?”

“She knows every room in the house, duva, remember she ordered all the furniture and planned and designed the color schemes and I’m sure she has all the specs still on her computer to refresh her memory.”

“Well, actually I was thinking about the closet.”

“The closet?”

“Well, the reason nobody likes that room is because it’s so ordinary looking and boring, which is the reason it’s become the dumping zone where all the junk gets tossed into, but —more to the point: the closet is possibly the worst feature. It reminds me of the closets of half a dozen dreary apartments I’ve lived at in Michigan.”

“It looks like what closets look like,” he banters not getting my point

“Yeah, it does so —yeah—it could be anywhere, anyone’s, right?”

“You suggest we do a zoom meeting in a closet?” he scoffs 

“Do you have a better idea?”

“A closet? Duva—“

“Yes— look, I can say that it’s a promotional idea. Something we’ve come up with and are trying it out. Since Paulina wants to continue to be involved in the company—as you know—he wants to remain in charge of the website because that’s what he did before it changed hands to —you— I mean ‘Greta’— he seems unwilling to let Cabaret go, if you want my opinion— he’s going to be like a pimple on your ass, you know—and he’s extremely territorial, especially about making the decisions about what goes in the catalogue!”

“Why do you care? It doesn’t matter to me. I just need the front for storage space. Just let him, if he wants to do the work—“

“No, Jörn—you said— I mean— well you said because I used to run a boutique— well I just assumed you wanted my input.... and.... so.... you should know — um— that I placed this really big order and—well— Paulina was not exactly pleased that she—he—I mean— wasn’t consulted first.”

“You placed a big order?”

“It was when I was waiting last night, I got bored and.... so, anyway....”

“Hmm,” Jörn only says 

“Are you mad? Was that wrong?”

“No—I ....what kind of order?” he asks 

“It’s just —some idea I got for a new line that I told Paulina I wanted to call ‘Le chevalier’....“

“Hmm...” he says again and at first it is all he says. After a silent pause he asks,

“what kinds of clothes did you order?”

“Oh, well—you know.... shirts with a lot of ruffles.... like Oscar Wilde dandy clothes, you know, like those ‘poet shirts,’—some waist coats with velvet britches, long brocaded coats—like—kind of Louis XIV style but with a modern look.... I found this on a search I was doing because I was losing my mind watching the monitors for hours with nothing happening. These were cool, I thought, so, why not?— they’re all by an unknown designer— I mean, as I noticed the Cabaret catalogue only had femme fatale things mostly there’s a whole other genre that is being overlooked and I thought— well—and I was thinking ‘Elton’ wouldn’t be dressed in tights and stilettos, would he?”

He laughs,

“now I know why Paulina wants to see what you look like!”

As we are now sitting up in bed I watch his face carefully and becoming worried, I say,

“why—wh-what does—that mean exactly?”

“Never mind—let’s focus on the zoom meeting, we don’t have much time—we need to—well, besides having to throw our act together, I don’t know what we can do about you—and as you point out, the shipment that came will have more than enough for Greta —but we still have no idea where to do the zoom meeting....hmm, really ....le chevalier....?”

I try not to read too much into it,

“So, what about the closet?”

“What about the closet?”

“For the meeting.”

“You are seriously suggesting we do a zoom meeting in a closet?” he is not impressed

“Well, just listen a minute— we can throw some Christmas lights around it—I noticed that there were boxes of feather boas in the shipment that came, we hang some of them around with that fake leopard jacket I saw, hang one of those little black dresses with rhinestones that I saw was in there too and—set up some high heeled shoes on the shelf—you know, I think we had a lot of extra red Christmas lights, didn’t we? we could use those—I mean, it’s a small space but we can dress it up like a Cabaret and say we are working on a promotional campaign called ‘Party in My Closet’ for the obvious euphemism of the closet, but —it now it just occurred to me we can say it’s our way to do our part to ‘chase the Covid blues away’ since everyone is pretty much depressed and stuck in forms of isolation. Tell him we think it would be good to promote sales, say we were thinking to do a ‘party in my closet’ contest for customers and we thought it might work to boost morale —uhhh.... whatever— what the fuck,” I say because he’s laughing at me, “ok. Never mind, forget it. I know it’s stupid—sorry, it was just the first thing that popped into my head .... so.... maybe you have a better idea where to do a zoom call where Lisa doesn’t know.”

“Is this the window designer coming out in you?”

“Hey, I was good.”

He gets up suddenly and yanks me out of bed dragging me to his closet,

“Good or bad, I can’t think of anything better—and we’re out of time. We’re doing it.”

The following scene, Victor/Eltonia noir; Spy notes, Electra’s dictionary (jm muse chronicles)

 

“When did you get back?” I ask him after

“A few hours ago....” he says this against my ear, from behind, pressed up to me, “I saw you up here. You were sound asleep. And it seemed like a good idea.... as we’ve been up all night.... you didn’t even feel me get into bed next to you,” he says and draws me to him, his arms like a seatbelt buckled in front of me; he kisses my neck, “I think you were dreaming.... or maybe I was because— I didn’t even notice when I fell asleep.... was it the hut again—your dream?”

“And the—“

“Moon....” he says it with me as I say it too

“The moon....” I sigh seeing it the way it was in the dream as it shone into the hut; full, beautiful .... and the sound of the sea.... and then I heard—

“I heard music,” I say now, “yours....”

“That was my fault, I’m sorry, I had it on.... I’ve been going back over some of the parts and had it on when .... I was laying here next to you. Before I fell asleep....”

“What time is it?”

“It’s a little after twelve.... we should probably get up,” he says reluctantly

And because I hear it in his voice I ask,

“why? What’s up now—Jörn....?”

After a beat he sighs,

“he wants to do a zoom meeting.”

“A zoom meeting? Who does? Who do you mean?”

“Paulina.”

“Oh.... ? ....he —is— a ‘he’—“ I say, “glad you clarified.”

“You couldn’t tell on the phone?”

“By a phone call? Jörn—nobody jumps to conclusions these days, yes? We don’t jump, right? —but, you know, I’m not even sure how you have  managed to—rope me in—to your shenanigans, now— how did this even happen? I am trying to imagine your motives and —I mean how did you ....?—do this?—and I let you, because I’m —a twit— obviously —this is crazy! What is it you expect me to do?”

But instead he does something ....he knows I like —which is an unfair trick. 

He ignores my questions and instead just asks,

“actually, you need to tell me, I’m fascinated —how did you manage to convince Paulina? I think he almost has a crush on you now and he only likes boys,” but I notice he does not laugh, rather sounds somewhat astounded 

“What?!” I laugh at that, “did I? With just my voice!???”

“Yes, because now he wants to see what you look like,” now he actually laughs, and, he seems even wickedly amused

“Please—you’re not serious....”

But he keeps doing something he knows I like so I think maybe this is a spy tactic he’s picked up 

“I’m not that easy to convince,” I say

“You don’t lie very well. No, tell me, how did you disguise your voice? I’m really curious.”

“It wasn’t on purpose.”

“What wasn’t?”

“Well, first when I called I got the voice mail and hung up. I sent an email. Then he called me back. But —not at first. About twenty minutes later, I guess it was. I didn’t expect that. Because— see, I realized I was hungry. Because actually, I didn’t eat since some time yesterday —on my hike. When all I had was a granola bar. So I decided to make something— I was half asleep but starving and so I was just going to make a baked potato and I didn’t realize the shaker to the cayenne pepper was on the wrong opening and I inhaled a cloud of pepper dust when he called— so I was actually choking and totally hoarse.... he really thought I was a guy?”

now he’s really laughing at me,

“I guess you better start inhaling more pepper because .... well—“here he pauses, “besides that—we need to make you look like someone called Elton.”

“You need to do some explaining, Jörn. And why —exactly— do you think I’ll do this? Sometimes you are too demanding, I swear Jörn—“ but I stop protesting.... because he can be convincing, actually 

But I hold some resolve still, and I say,

“I do want to know why.... why now? Why suddenly do you decide—to now make me a part of your spy schemes?”

“Why do you think?” he says this into my ear between kissing my neck 

“No—I don’t know.... really I don’t....”

“Maybe because of what I wrote on the note ..... it is time to.”

“That is so cryptic, Jörn. You make it sound like you are explaining but—you never actually say anything! Would it be too hard for you to—for once— to actually say? Something? Actually tell me something? Something! Maybe once, just once. Dropped your guard, maybe?”

“And that is why. I knew you’d get there eventually.”

I am silenced by this enigmatic remark. 

“More of your riddles! I swear—!” 

Only, no. I don’t finish that remark. 

Because I cannot. 

and even so, my mind is trying to work out what he means even while in the midst he presses his advantage with his methods of distraction. And then ....it is some time before the conversation gets anywhere; he teases and says,

“I feel I owe you for your birthday,” as if for excuse 

***

And not too long after ....

he concedes now to admit,

“All right, I will explain: Paulina’s ex is Lisa’s best friend.... Bruno—“

“Bruno?”

“Yes— he was partner in the business with Paulina —the Cabaret —all of this— which I only discovered after.... I bought the business .... that is—Greta.... bought the business—“

“Shocking—maybe you should have hired a detective to get the lowdown first,” I say with irony. 

Which he ignores, not even pausing,

“—and— she cannot know; it would blow my cover and —cause a lot of misunderstandings..... this presents the problem of the zoom call as— besides that you can’t look like you, also, because you know she knows this house and I know she’s been consoling Paulina on the break up —she’s currently at his place....”

“This is insane! How is it possible of all drag clothing companies you buy the one who is somehow connected with your wife?”

“Lisa is a home designer, Bruno went to her design school— and it’s Stockholm.”

“What does that mean?”

“So—“ but just ignores this question, “now we have to come up with something fast to disguise not just us but also this place. This house. That she got for us. Any ideas?”

Electra’s dictionary (a short); excerpt of a scene/Noir dream

 

I fall asleep after the phone call, too tired to stay awake to wait

and dream....of shadows 

I see and watch those shadows; the shadows on the wall

it seems .... I watch them; watch as they move across the wall with their own life.... it seems.... I watch the shadows 

and see him move as though he becomes his music..... with his hair wild, flung wildly about.... I watch.... watch him

how much I love to watch him, even in dream, and the way the music seems to become tactile and lucid; like something physical erupting 

the wildness in him—that wildness ....he keeps just below the surface and only sometimes he allows to be released

but the dreams mix and seem to be confused with what is real, like the stack of hides with the scent of him.... I feel the texture of his hair against my lips, the warmth of his arms; he fills me, pervading everything and all senses 

until I realize it is not a dream....

sometimes in sleep we join

Next scene/Noir night into day

 

It seems several hours must have gone by, left still not knowing what has happened 

....as when I do try his number, after ten minutes, it goes directly to voice mail, leaving me frozen to sit still and just wait, staring dumbly at the last monitor I saw him in

....but it must have been much less time than that when he finally does call —as time is strange that way, 

it had to be within an hour of manic anxiety

“Sorry, my phone battery died,” he says to me when he calls; it is by then some time around seven I realize 

“Were you watching the monitors?” he asks, “did you see if anyone was following?”

And by then I am too exhausted from the stress of the night with no sleep and too relieved .... I guess.... to get excited or exclaim; much too unable to have any energy left to be wound up or even be angry at his apparent glibness; just glad to hear his voice and so just say,

“Oh— the boat or—?”

“Yes, the boat, the cargo ship,” he says

“No, nobody was following in the water but the monitors went blank for awhile —I think I bumped the button on the circuit strip,” I say

“That wouldn’t affect the recording, I can look at it later but you would have seen a boat if it was just a minute or so. In any case, they couldn’t trace it to me,” he sounds tired too, I can hear it in his voice

“Jörn, do you always do that?—I mean, have you? Is this like a regular thing?” I ask

“That was the last one,” he says this now with a heavy sigh of relief, “I needed to transfer the gold to another location. I won’t have to do it again—I am not going to store it back there anymore....”

And as if any of this makes sense to me

“You know.... I saw you hanging from the helicopter,” I say 

But he just says,

“Mmm....” in a tired noncommittal way 

“Jörn?” 

“Ja—yes, duva....” as he seems half asleep, “I’m glad that was the last one— I’m on my way back, I should be back there soon after your shipment arrives —and don’t forget to call that number but use the business line —and make sure you don’t use your real name,” he says this also very noncommittal, as if half asleep

“Right, Elton....Are you driving?—I don’t hear a motorcycle?”

“No, I’m on a train. And I grabbed another disguise, but I’m going to have a quick nap now —oh! and duva, try to disguise your voice when you call the number —ask for Paulina—can you, maybe, deepen it?”

“Deepen it? Why?”

“To sound more like an Elton,” he says tiredly

“Then I am supposed to be a guy? You never said.”

“Nobody is going to check body parts,” he says

***

And after.... slouched in a chair, I look again at the necklace and locket .... as there has been no time to really, so— I look at it now .... it is somehow delicate and pretty, I find as I study it, and admire the work of it, finding myself amazed at discovering yet more mystery about Jörn, even now after going on two years, I think —and note, too, as I study his craftsmanship, the way it has that strange gray-blue glow, almost like his eyes; those eyes of kryptonite ....and I flick the little key that dangles as I think this, considering ....the work of JM smeden .... and like his music, I consider, his exacting attention to detail is .... just like everything he does, isn’t it? ....and only then decide to put it on, even as there is no mirror down here to look at myself with it on 

But then I hear the buzzer —a seeming foreign sound of alarm that shocks me out of a daze and alerts me to realize: oh, this must be the shipment. The guy must be having trouble with the pin code, I realize. And get up from the desk and walk out of the cage to the conveyor belt that, hours before, I saw him leave on 

but there is a queer and dazed sense, again, like I have done this kind of thing before ....for him.... and it seems the sleepiness I feel seems to open parts of my mind as I start to realize something else.... it is this about him, this— and why it is that it seems I so blindly .... just go.... as if I would follow him anywhere, because ..... I sense I already have.... so many times before.... as if from so many life times .... ago ....and maybe it is that which does not make it seem at all strange .... and why I do it

he said ‘trust’ didn’t he? And so, is it this? what must be why .... it is.... about him, this —trust.... ? Is it that ? I had for him .... as if from somewhere inside .... like from some other time somewhere long ago, it feels  —like some kind of strange and blind trust for him 

since .... that very first day when I first saw him in the lobby .... that day..... when I was first caught in his gaze

what was it he meant in his riddle about trust? What did he mean....? Only my thoughts have become foggy and so dazed as I climb onto the conveyor belt and watch the electric doors open as I move on the belt as it goes and then find as it descends, I am now outside moving down a hill through trees in a pale morning light 

Noir night; Left hanging

 

One of the last things Jörn quickly mentions, as an afterthought, on his way out, is that there is a delivery coming in the morning and that I should watch the monitors for when the semi arrives downstairs. 

But this does not fully register with me. 

And only later, do I remember that he said this. Hours later, while I am still in the dungeon basement, sitting in the cage by the computers, staring at the mostly pitch dark monitors and playing with the remote control buttons watching the monitors, not exactly knowing why. 

Only that it was my job to let Jörn know when I saw a train pass on one of the monitors at around 1:30AM.... which I did —after staring at what looked like a blank screen for an hour after he left 

and then after the train passed.... it was even more hours followed of having to mind numbing-ly stare at all the blank screens— not knowing why....

and not even thinking to question anything.... 

and why?

Maybe it’s just a lot to process.... and find I welcome this opportunity of distraction to not have to resort to fill the time with the wasteland of social media as I want to avoid any and all access to news with their highlights of misery, catastrophes, violence and politics

while considering that this spot right here could work nicely as a bomb shelter, I find myself thinking as I look around

.... and maybe I am slightly shell shocked about it all.... the pantry wall, the rubber jumpsuit, the platinum locket and confusing note....  overthinking the meaning of the riddle— what does it mean? .... I am in a fuzzy, bleary state

From the monitors I was able to watch him leave. He did not go back through the stairwell from before; instead he chose to go down on the conveyor belt, saying I should  go that way too if I needed to in case the delivery person has trouble with the keypad code downstairs in the morning 

and I did assure him I would personally like to avoid bats right now. Again, it hardly registered with me.... as even odd .... my mind still trying to understand his words

I mean— it is not as if I should think there was anything strange about watching him climb on a conveyor belt — right? too busy trying to read meanings in his words .... as I watch dully from the monitors and in a daze I see him put on a helmet (no wonder his hair was matted) and ride off on a motorcycle .... a motorcycle? Where did that come from....? it vaguely occurs to me to wonder. I think, hmmm.... no wonder he didn’t need the car.... oh, maybe the rubber jumpsuit makes perfect sense now, I guess....

however it still remains unclear to me where the stairs lead to

and the conveyor belt.... as the monitor I watched him leave from on the motorcycle was hard to clearly see much in the dark

****

But at around three-thirty AM I discover I accidentally have fallen asleep when something crashes and shocks me awake. I must have leaned on a glass as it rolled off and broke in a very, very loud pop sound, like an explosion, which caused me to jump —and now there is glass everywhere, which is not the best situation half asleep 

caught in a maze of broken glass and no idea where there may be any kind of dust bin or broom or.... anything, I reach for a box and start collecting the pieces but 

something on the monitor catches my eye and I see Jörn dangling from a helicopter —dangling! which is the moment I cut myself —but I only realize it in a split sense— because it is incomprehensible why I see blood everywhere or that I’m dripping—because I am watching Jörn on the screen as he hangs from a helicopter .... but glance quick to another screen as something there moves and catches my eye as I see a cargo ship?! —heading towards the bridge .... where I watch the train head over the railroad tracks — the same railroad tracks that I had previously stared at for hours before ..... which has been where the camera has been focused all night .... and now there’s a train ....and why am I’m covered in blood? as I stand there frozen

What is he doing?

At this point I try using the close up button not even realizing I’m smearing blood everywhere. But it’s too dark to understand what is happening! And things are happening everywhere in all the monitors! — that I don’t know which one I should be looking at

It seems like hours as I watch what he is doing.... but realistically it must have all happened in about twenty minutes.... maybe twenty-five.... 

there’s something that drops from the cargo train onto the tracks.... then it seems he ties it or—somehow attaches it to the rope from the helicopter .... and then....

what happens? 

The cameras go blank for awhile! 

What just happened?

I must have hit a button..... it takes awhile before everything comes back.....

But all I see is the cargo ship disappearing and nothing!

Nothing .... there’s nothing at all.... all the screens go back to how they were before .... just pitch, dark camera views that are only vaguely discernible as the railroad tracks, the water and blank spaces.... meanwhile I am searching the water wondering .... fearing.... the worst thoughts

I sit there waiting wondering if I should try calling Jörn’s phone but afraid to. If he is unable to answer because he’s hanging from a rope I wouldn’t want to make him try and answer the phone

So I wait staring at the screen wondering what the fuck I just witnessed .... and start pacing inside the cage .... 

give it five minutes and call? Or.... 

Thoughts within

 

The hardest part of present day life for me has been more about the prison of the perimeters 

and the loudness of the very negative society of the twenty-first century

one cannot escape it

I really don’t mind solitude; if I am to be honest, I prefer it

I do miss getting to travel

I need change or I go crazy 

which —may be .... I have gone, 

as I talk to myself here quite a lot. There is such a strangeness .... out there. I don’t know if it is the removal of physical interaction with members of society .... but people seem particularly “extreme” and brought to their lowest denomination 

What does a healthy minded person do to escape the perils of hostility and narrow minded crowd thinking 

as big as the world relatively is to me, it has begun to feel too small

I don’t want to be negative and I guess I come here to clear these thoughts of where I am being blind .... 

I don’t regret things I have walked away from but I do regret the disappointment ....

if philosophy is for those who can afford the time to, I do it when others sleep 

I guess because I fear my dreams 

Part 3 Of Walls and keys, noir a pirate’s legend; Electra’s dictionary (jm chronicles)

 

“Remember those walls I built?

“....I found a way to let you in 

“Burning through the darkest night

“Think I’m addicted to your light

”....Pray it don’t fade away....”

Song lyrics to song “Halo” —Beyoncé Knowles, Evan Kidd Bogart, Ryan B. Tedder

https://youtu.be/wkABWE-WUC8

Somebody’s here! somebody’s here..... Oh my god! what is that? What is that?—what is that banging? 

I watch the conveyor belt moving .... there is a barrel on it and it seems to be rolling and bumping into another one 

..... but no! there is a banging somewhere —it’s coming from somewhere .... somewhere else! 

I spin around searching the huge space I find myself in —oh god, I’m trapped! Did I just get myself locked in here? How do I get out of here? I glance up at the staircase where at the top some door slammed down that was what seemed like the wall behind the pantry shelves — which opened when I turned the key

but how do I open it from this side??? because that banging—there’s someone there! 

I move away from the gated office cage with the monitors and the tables and start to back up towards the stairs where I just came down

Wait.... wait.... I hear....I hear a voice! —shouting.... ! —Where is it coming from? —it’s shouting something —at me— they know I’m in here! I try to figure out where it’s coming from.... muffled —like through a wall. A wall? I turn around a few times confused because .... it sounds familiar .... it sounds....like— I walk back towards the conveyor belt— it sounds like, “duva!” 

I stop and freeze....

Where is it coming from? I look around 

“Duva!”

Yes, I did hear that

I look for the flashlight again on my phone and flick it towards the extremities of the vast darkness 

The banging again! And with it,

“duva, open the door!”

The door?—oh.... the door.....I can see it now because of the light from my phone—that.... must be where he is....

Why do I feel like such an idiot now?

I walk across the cement floor and see the door clearly now. I notice it has a door handle that has a locked button..... as Jörn is obviously banging it from the other side .... he must have got locked out

I turn the handle and the button pops open

Jörn swings through the door as if catapulted through and lands on the floor 

He looks a bit odd.... oddly pale and .... his clothes are odd too.... he’s sweaty and his hair is a bit matted and stringy —like he’s been there awhile, maybe?

I look where he’s come from which is dark as pitch, but some light from the basement and my phone allow me to notice he was at the top of another staircase

He pulls himself up from the floor in a stumble

“Where does that go?” I ask

before I realize Jörn has blood on him

“Oh my god!” I grab his hand and look up at him as my heart begins to pound in my head— there is something wrapped around his hand.... a purple scarf —to stop the blood

“It’s ok, I just sliced it trying to jam open the door—where the fuck have you been!?”

The last part he yells at me

I look at him confused,

“what?”

He grabs my phone to look at it,

“oh, you never got these?” he waves his messages at me

“I....” I take my phone back, yanking it from his grip—but I decide not to continue because I’m afraid of the look on his face 

“Do you never check your phone for messages? Or don’t you know how it works? Let me guess—you turned your phone off because of that fucking clown again?”

“You were supposed to be back three days ago! You never called!” I shriek at him because now I’m angry at him all over again 

“Well, if you checked your messages once in awhile you would know why!” he shouts this and it echoes 

I watch him walk towards the cage now and.... only now .... really take in what he looks like.... what he’s wearing....What is he wearing? a silk purple scarf....? and what looks like a slick black rubber —jumpsuit ....? or—? could be....it’s hard to guess ....maybe it’s suppose to be like a motorcycle jacket? —over—a skintight jumpsuit....It’s got the rivets ....or.... are they studs.... 

I half run, as I’m becoming a little sickeningly, curiously amazed with wonder, so I stop him on his way inside the cage grabbing him by his upper arm to pull him around— as.... I see he’s wearing a fishnet shirt underneath and— I grab his hand, as something just caught my eye,

“red nailpolish?” I look up at him, “Jörn.... is there something you want to tell me?”

He almost laughs but his smile stops as he shakes his head at me— because now I can see he seems more than a little bit peeved at me and is trying not to lose it; I know this by how his nostrils are flared and the muscles in his jaw but he keeps his eyes cool on me as he says with a note of sarcasm,

“I am hoping you have some nail varnish removal.”

as if that explains 

I take a step back from him and drop my grip on his arm—step back and look at him. I don’t know what to think —if I’m angry....? am I ....? .... well.... so.... instead I show him my own set of fingernails and say,

“the only paint I use goes on canvas, in case you haven’t noticed!” I tell him starting to feel uncomfortable now and more than a little perturbed, “why are you dressed like you’ve either come from a Rocky Horror Picture Show party or an appointment as a dominatrix?”

He starts laughing now as he walks straight into the cage ....as if he does it every day. Well, maybe he does—but as if he does it every day with me.... because I realize he doesn’t seem at all surprised to find me there

and then like a deranged person I snap, “thanks for missing my birthday....”

I decide now to start looking at his text messages ....

Wow.... there’s .....a lot.... of them.... it seems I’ve missed .... quite a lot..... 

I find there’s much more to take in all at once—it’s like a graphic novel of War and Peace

and.... there’s one that’s a photo.... which actually is a photo of that weird drawing upstairs .... the one drawn in black marker—the rectangular light switch drawing —that must have .... actually been.... drawn there for me.... as .... there is another pic and this is actually a pic of the key hanging on —the peg.... with messages telling me why.... and how to find the Allen key to open the.... 

“You didn’t see this?” he asks me now from inside the cage where he’s standing pointing to something on one of the tables 

I start to come closer to see what he’s pointing to

“No I....” I start to say

until I realize .... he’s taking a bottle of champagne from inside a little mini refrigerator I had not noticed before 

and he’s got two champagne glasses —suddenly I feel like a total loser because the thing he’s pointing to on the table looks like a gift meant for me

I go over to it as I whisper “shit,” to myself 

It’s a black satin pouch with something obviously in it, concealed with a long velvet drawstring green ribbon pulled closed

“Oh....” I just stare at it

“You didn’t see it....” he says 

I hear him shut the little door to the mini fridge and the scrape of his shoe as he walks over with the two glasses 

I look up at him

He gives me a sarcastic smile and then pops open the champagne bottle without saying anything more 

“I’m sorry....” I say

He clinks the glasses,

“you don’t want to know what kind of day I just had,” he sighs heavily and starts drinking out of one of the glasses, “skål,” he says, “and happy birthday—it’s still one minute to midnight, so, I did make it, duva.”

I take the glass he’s handing to me

“I don’t have a lot of time though— I hope you still have the key?” he walks over to.... oh, there’s a sink there? He starts washing his hand that is bloody 

“So—what? What key? Why were you stuck down there? Did you lock yourself out?”

“You were supposed to have opened it four hours ago—if you read your messages....” he says, adding the last part under his breath, “tell me you have the key, duva?”

“What key?”

“The one—“

I look at him—as he points to the top of the stair case I came from 

“Just to let you know— when you pull the cord up there— it releases the ‘guillotine’ door. It gives you about ten seconds first .... so, I hope you have the key?” He asks with a subtle inclination of his head and a sardonic look of warning in those startling vampire eyes that at this moment blaze with an iridescent fire 

“Oh....” I nod as I think about that .... “hmm....” 

“Duva....” he sighs losing his patience 

“Why, is there no other way out of here? Why would you—“ but I stop suddenly, “oh—“

He looks worried now and moves closer 

“Oh?” he asks me

I start to smile as I say,

“Oh, please tell me why you are dressed like that?”

I see he’s about lose it now,

“Really, this isn’t funny—we’re already behind on time as it is, please, tell me you have the key!”

It only has just occurred to me, I put it in my other back pocket of my jeans as I feel for it now and show it to him,

“I have it here! Where are you going? You just got here!”

“No, I didn’t just get here, duva—I’ve been stuck on that stair case with bats for the last three hours trying to message you!”

“Oh.... well.... where are you going and— why didn’t you have a key for the other side?”

Jörn doesn’t seem in the mood to answer that but he takes the key from me and goes straight over to something else by one of the computers where there seems to be a network of devices .... one of which .... that .... the key must also .... be used to initiate something —as I watch him turn it in some lock, I hear that sound again.... it’s that humming sound .... and then after that there is a loud click .... and a motor going as it seems to have activated another conveyor belt

“What’s it doing?” I ask him

But he’s watching the monitors now. He goes over to one of the computers and starts typing things and then he starts turning on more monitors. He picks up a remote control and taps a button and I follow his gaze to one of the monitors he’s looking at. He’s making the camera focus closer 

He turns to me and says,

“this button pulls you in closer,” he says, “this—goes further away, see? To move it around you do this....” he waits as he watches my face. Then he says, “you got that? Show me what I just told you,” he says now

He hands the remote me

“Why?” I take it from him, “why, Jörn? Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you are going to have to do this,” he says now

“What! Why? I am? What is this? What is this all about? Is this some kind of bomb? Are you a terrorist?”

Now he starts laughing at me,

“No! —why the fuck would you think that?” and apparently he thinks it’s a great joke because he can’t stop laughing over it, “and if I was, do you really think I would ask you— Miss Bambi over here—to set off a bomb,” he’s laughing at this —maybe enjoying the thought too much but then checking his watch suddenly, seriously now, he says, “show me what I just told you how to do.”

I sigh giving in, noticing his hand is still bleeding,

“this pans it and this goes in and out.....” and I do it for him as I look at the monitor 

“Ok, good....” he says and waves me to the computers, “a few more things— and I wrote everything down here for you, but I’m going over it with you; you’ll have time to read through my notes as it’ll take a few hours to get there....”

“Get where?” I ask

He shakes his head,

“duva, there’s no time now— had you unlocked the door four hours ago, I could have explained everything but as it is, I’m going to be speeding all the way to Maine— there’s a coffee maker down here, so I suggest you make some as —it’ll be a long night, the bathroom is through there—“

“Maine!”

He was walking back to check something else by another monitor but stops to look at me with a guilty expression. He sighs and comes over to me. He puts his hand on my upper arm and leans against the table by where I’m still standing next to his gift for me,

“look, I meant to explain everything to you but— remember when you mentioned to me about moving somewhere? You said Amsterdam or Maine— you think I never listen to you, I know, but—I decided both would be perfect so .... I’ve .... needed to set up where to store a few things .... it’s a cover....” he indicates his clothes, “I remember —too—you told me you used to manage a boutique in New York— I need you to run —I bought a business, they happen to have three shops; one in Amsterdam, one in Portland and one in Stockholm—“

“What kind of business?” I look at his clothes, “god, not an S and M leather place— I didn’t run that kind of boutique.”

He laughs,

“no, it’s rubber, or pleather; vegan friendly, I thought of you, but right now it’s mainly online since the pandemic, but hopefully, it’ll go back to being open because the Portland one has a club in the evenings which will be perfect for my cover....”

“Your cover?”

But he just gives me a wicked kind of grin 

“And yours, duva....” he winks at me, “it specializes in .... unisex clothes —I mean—oh, I almost forgot, tomorrow you have to call someone about the website— I sent you the number, your name is ‘Elton’—“

“Elton? You’re kidding! Why am I Elton?”

But he goes back to check the monitor 

“Oh and the boutique is called ‘The Cabaret’.... “ he starts typing something and I watch him for awhile 

Then I say,

“Elton is not exactly a macho kind of name—am I supposed to be a cross dresser too?”

“Well, I had to work with what you got, no offense,” he laughs

“And who are you? Eunice or Jonie?”

“Greta,” he says and comes over to me, “I have to keep Stina off my trail, I needed a good disguise and this is what I came up with. She’d never think to look for a tranny in a rubber shop who does cabaret shows— I need a cover to shift the gold across transatlantic and this just seems like the best plan.”

Evidently ....I need to read my messages ..... I am thinking 

“Is that all there is to it?” I ask 

“I think you’d know; it’s not like you’ve never experienced this .... side,” he gathers my hair into his hand and pulls it aside from my neck and kisses me there, leaving chills, he says, “wash up for me,” and puts his mouth back along my neck and sinks in his teeth, then says into my ear, “I’ll make it up to you.”

....

And it is later, after more instructions and after he leaves when I am left there to think about it all

and find myself staring at the gift still wrapped and hidden in satin and drawn closed in the velvet ribbon 

I decide to open it now and pull open the gathered fabric

There is a silver box inside 

a silver box like from an expensive jewler’s shop ..... I look at the design on the box

emblazed is a kind of branding emblem of what appears like a warrior shield and within it in gold lettering:

JM 

Smeden

uteslutande platina, uteslutande det bästa

Stockholm, Sverige

I open the box. It is a necklace.... it looks like a locket. It glows silver gray-blue in the light. But I realize it is shaped something like—a safe.... with a key that dangles like a charm.... it looks actually like —another safe ....actually

I realize there is a note inside the box folded up

It says

~here is my riddle: what fosters hope; something I long disavowed; so what fosters that? trust? where you stand reading this you see I have and if we have reached this far then this is hope you can~ 

....And below the printed words there is a drawing, a much better drawing than the one on the wall of the light switch; this one is of a lock

I look again at the box....

JM 

Smeden

uteslutande platina, uteslutande det bästa

Stockholm, Sverige

I decide to Google it.... 

JM Smeden, Stockholm, Sverige ....

    “exclusive designer artist jeweler metalsmith Jörn Milström who works exclusively in platinum, putting out new pieces only once every few years that auction at priceless amounts. Not much is known of this reclusive philanthropist beyond his involvement in various worldwide orchestras, recently affiliated with the New York Philharmonic, Milström’s musical family ....” I stop there

and I think now.... the pirate ....

how much about him do I really know....? 

and yet.... don’t I ....? in my gut feel  .... I do know .... Smeden

and so I think, maybe I was wrong about one thing, though, I think now .... about ....Beatrice  



Electra’s dictionary; Of walls and keys; noir a pirate’s legend part 2 (jm chronicles)

 

I follow the humming sound which takes me in the direction of what would have once been the kitchen’s side door.... but it is not the door that the sound was coming from. It was the wall which had faced the door, and usually camouflaged by the corner wall that is the partition through the small vestibule that always seemed like a narrow pantry because of the shelves. In fact, the shelves are what kept the wall inconspicuous, when it was there.... because that wall has disappeared!

I walk over to it now.... what.... the.... fuck....

What-the-fuck..... in fact I say this out loud a few times .... now .... as I stare at.... blankness— or rather— blackness; as there is now nothing behind the old beat up wooden shelving.... it is .... like some kind of empty —?

But it’s too dark to quite see, actually.... I need more light....

I search for a light switch. That might actually work, would be helpful.... and spot a dangling pull that seems to hang by a lightbulb up by the narrow opening behind the the shelves.... 

“....what-the-fuck,” I say again out loud but under my breath because I feel strange —what will I find? I wonder if I even want to know .... and I feel breathless now and dizzy .... but, I know there is no way I am going to turn around and just head back to the barnhouse now, and pretend as if there is nothing weird going on. Already, I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping tonight, as mad as I feel about Jörn missing my birthday 

This is the very thought that prompts me to duck under the bottom shelf in order to reach for the string that will illuminate what has been behind this wall. 

Yes, my mind is racing— I’m thinking: this must be how he gets to the house....? Maybe? Does it have an underground catacombs? I suddenly stop.... I mean, who knows what’s lurking in there.... he’s a fucking spy! What if he stores dead bodies.... ?

Do I really think that?

Well, who knows.... I purposely avoid creepy crime thrillers because of shit like this.... 

Should I go back?

Unless— no, wait, didn’t I once hear Lisa say the place belonged to an architect? And before that some farming family who .... had a distillery! She said they hid it in the basement because it was during prohibition!

I feel better remembering this now and take a deep breath before I reach to pull the light cord. But as soon as I pull it, the bulb immediately blows in a flash of light.

“Shit!” I hiss —and it echoes....

What the fuck.... ?

Only now do I remember I have my phone in my back pocket

I had it turned off.... because of Chris .... the texts .... and I guess, too— because I am more than just a little pretty pissed at Jörn

It takes awhile to locate the “on” button .... and awhile for it to boot up.... 

during which time the damp chill reaches from the nether regions beyond what ever has been existing behind this wall all this— which smells dank and the air has a definite chill that seems to breeze across me as I stand there waiting to see.

In a flash of the phone powering on....

I happen to find .... there are half a dozen or more text messages....

no, actually more....

possibly about a dozen. Maybe more. And quite a lot of phone calls, apparently too, that I’ve missed....

Shit....

only, I find I’m more curious to know —and suddenly more glad to distract myself with what’s up —here—

I opt to ignore the .... yelling messages .... and search for the flashlight app

I get only as much as a glance to realize I am at the top of a staircase when I drop my phone

and the door slams behind me with a defining ~click~

leaving me in total darkness ....as I hear my phone land somewhere down there 

shit.... 

Well there is nothing to do but start groping in the dark. I get back onto my hands and knees but very carefully because the steps are narrow and slippery; I use the wall to guide me down in the darkness until I land with my knees safely on the top step. As I start to move down the stairs my eyes begin to adjust to the darkness. This is when I start to see there is a bit of light glowing from further down, and as I move towards it I hear more sounds of kinds of humming; like the sound of motorized electrical things. I notice too that my hands have gotten filthy —but then I  spot my phone on the bare and gray cement floor .... as a chill goes by me. I land onto the bottom and stand up now then I quickly bend down for my phone

Only I glance around me before looking at what the text messages are about

“What.... the.... fuck....” because I find myself unable to come up with anything to explain what I’m looking at

There are tv monitors in various places.... this is where the light was coming from.... 

I look around some more .... barrels .... lots of barrels..... a complexity of.... what looks like conveyor belts.... and rows — about twelve — all lined up.... with wooden barrels ....

I look back at the tv monitors .... 

         they are inside the cage 

The cage.... what is that? 

I walk over to ....?

Oh, it looks like some kind of.... office? What is going on down here? I walk over to this .... cage— a metal enclosed cubicle lined with three desks— or long tables.... with boxes .... some stacked, some open.... filing cabinets.... packing equipment; flattened cardboard boxes, rolls of packing tape, eco-friendly packing peanuts.... computers .... cameras!!!!

Shit! 

I’m being watched!

There’s a camera right on me with a red light flashing!

I look at the monitors from where all the light is coming from..... what is that? I walk over to what it seems to be showing. Oh.... it’s spanning.... and lighting in surveillance .... one seems to be some railroad tracks somewhere and .... it takes awhile to understand what the other is recording .... until I notice the ripples and how the light touches them before it occurs to me it’s water waves....

Why would he be filming water and railroad tracks?

Suddenly I hear a loud noise and jump! Did I hear a scream or was that me? No, it’s the conveyor belt! It starts moving now!

Oh God! 

Oh my god.... oh my god.... 

Oh my god—someone’s coming

Electra’s dictionary: Of walls and keys; noir, a pirate’s legend part 1 (jm chronicles)

31/August/2020

the fine line between diary and Noir 

There has been such a heaviness lately  .... 

and something somehow off between Jörn and myself .... 

and now his comings and goings  .... and there are so many things ..... left unspoken between us.

Things I wish .... that he would say .... and I guess do

and this sense of something that feels not right seems to consume me

unless it is just me — like how I know I push away.... 

 .... maybe it is the reason and this method has just worked to riddle me 

but there is something between Jörn and I 

 I can’t place it ....

and with it an uneasy feeling of exposure .... 

this feeling like he has gotten through some crack I ....never expected him to find 

and too —Jörn’s missions of late have become ever more mysterious; they have left me to wonder more and more about who he is in alliance with and .... still, even though in the end, mostly I find myself concluding that .... he seems mostly in allegiance to himself.... but this thought does not, however, bring me to believe that he is like any kind of mercenary either; no I would not think that either, really, you see, because I do see—he does have morals, and, as I have found, like, how I have seen in his actions towards his own family, he is devoutly loyal to them so, he does have his own high standard of ethics, I have seen myself.... even as he would not broadcast this; he would rather keep everyone guessing for reasons only he knows

He left some time about a week ago expecting to be back by now and as he is not, I suppose I guess I’m .... disappointed

there have only been short messages by text from him that are so evasive .... to leave me wondering 

and maybe I must bolt the walls 

and beware the vampire eyes 

and so I spend a few days avoiding thoughts of him and driving aimlessly, as this time he has left the car with me, and also wanting to avoid people but today I find I drive to the trail that we went to that day and decide anyway to get out to hike it 

and it makes me think of that day.... and I start to think about that odd thing that happened that day. When it was so hot.... and how lightheaded it made me .... and how ever since that ....thing that happened I .... yes! I realize .... that is the day I noticed .... the change 

it was after; like something different ..... but was it me or him?

 .....

I stop to think about this and sit in the exact spot we were at that day. I try to think. What happened? 

Today it is less hot and a there is a breeze as I think to clear my mind.

And instead decide to free my thoughts from things. 

The world even. 

Out here alone it is almost possible. Off the radar where here I can pretend I’m not a part of that world where it seems the inmates are running the asylum these days 

.... I would so much rather be out among trees and tall grass where even the brutality of nature I trust more than humans and their nature. 

*****

But

returning to the world is unavoidable because the Adirondaks gets dangerous when you can’t see your way in the dark

When I return later, though, I find I feel so caged .... and pace the barnhouse..... and I feel overwhelmingly claustrophobic and find too that I’m  — actually angry

Yes at Jörn.... because ok it is my birthday .... 

And maybe I’m being childish, I mean so what? Right? who really wants to celebrate getting older anyway, but ....still I feel angry at him .... for not bothering to be here

so i guess that’s why I go to the gutted farm house as if I’m about to murder someone and nearly  kick the door down 

and I walk right past my mediums and ignore my painting with the table of my clutter of brushes..... as I am in a wild frenzy, and I’m clearly losing my wits, so I am now madly searching the shelves as if looking for evidence for something 

like what? I don’t know 

maybe to see if there is anything more like of his cryptic receipts lying around .... but of course by now I am almost completely enraged. And unfortunately I find nothing more, really, as the shelves are mostly bare besides some cans of plaster and besides that it is a little grimy and dusty, it is all quite neat and clearly visible; all in order —but then.... something suddenly catches my eye I guess I never noticed. That key? ....I stop in my rise of this strange hysteria as ....I notice it hung on a peg ....I don’t think it was always there—? I decide it seems a bit new as it looks shiny as if just cut by a key master or— do I imagine that?

So I turn around and start wildly looking for things to give me an idea of what it goes to.

And now my thoughts go to that day with that woman and that Smulagan guy....  

Why am I thinking about that day? Because wasn’t it that day when they came to the house  ....it was when he had just returned that time ....when they said he was seen at the airport.... yes, that’s what it....was.... because I remember wondering ....

How did he get to the house without coming through the back? 

Which I am only remembering now— why....? 

I’d totally forgotten this till just now....

And my heart is pounding in my head for no reason but .... just a weird feeling

and I start searching the walls for—what? 

What am I searching for? Cracks in it, hidden panels ....? ....and .....I search the floor planks too.... cracks in the the floor.... and then go through to the gutted kitchen....like a maniac now as I now search the parts under the sink, and by now I am covered in dust and filth but I find don’t really care .... and get down on my hands and knees looking at every joining angle to the wainscotting and crawling over ants and dead bugs — shit! I get a splinter— which hurts —as it goes deep in my hand, gross blood, I hate blood ....and I have to get up to wash now and work it out

What am I doing? I think. I’m crazy, I must be....

I have to question my wild state. What is wrong with me? This is stupid, I’m in rewind if my life with Chris, it must be because he’s been texting me all day ....  stop myself and calm down ..... forget this .... go back to the house and take a bath and just fuck everyone 

And Jörn ....? I mean —he tells me to get divorced yet.... he’s still with what’s her name....

Fuck birthdays

—I wash my hands in the sink  as if to wash him off me and then turn around to lean against the edge of the sink and shake my head mostly angry with myself then

But .... then.... I glance up

And something catches my eye.  I notice something 

How long has that been there? 

I go over to where my table is with my brushes and buckets.... drawn on the wall.... Like in black ink. Scratched in. No, it’s new. I would have noticed.... I think? Like a very crude drawing that.... is not very good, actually, but that looks like....? What is that? it looks like maybe it could be —what? like a drawing of —is that supposed to be a drawing of a light switch? It is more like black marker I guess; a long rectangle with a lever thing it looks like, maybe. Weird.... but it makes me think—remembering now something else. By the sink. There is a switch that doesn’t go to anything but it seemed to be like it should be for a garbage disposal but if you flip it nothing happens. Which I remember I found kind of peculiar especially because after I asked Jörn he seemed oddly unconcerned. That sudden thought makes me go to it now. First flip it up and down again a few times. Nothing. So I I tap it, press on it to hear if it’s hollow ....,then search for a screw driver. 

But there’s nothing around; not even a toolbox around.... so I try my fingernail  —but that doesn’t work at all, as it tears my nail. Is this nuts? I’m crazy. I’ve obviously lost my mind again. What am I doing anyway? I wonder.... only no, no—that drawing .... it actually —looks seems new as if freshly drawn which I guess I should wonder mire about but I don’t 

I mean, instead I’m thinking —I would have seen it before as it’s right by my brushes and 

I think about ....Jörn’s casual shrug when I asked as if to change the subject when I had wondered about the switch, like what’s it for.... 

I find an Allen key in the drawer by where Andreas kept his stash and go back to the switch plate and start unscrewing the little screws ..... my heart pounding ..... as — well

I unscrew it and —remove the plate and 

I see what is behind it.... a lock....like the kind you put in a door 

So now I run to get the key on the wall and try it..... and yes, it fits.... it turns.... and ....I hear a sound, like a quiet hum —like the kind of sound that .... garage door makes as it opens.... but .....this is not a garage door