The Balcony

The Balcony

I stood looking out into the darkness. I may sound like a busybody, but I like looking into my neighbors' glass door on the left. Their kitchen light gives me hope for the rest of the day. Not even the slightest gleam came through the blackness, however, which wasn't surprising seeing as how it was 5:15 in the morning.

As breakfast was warming my stomach, it was still dark. I looked out my transparent door expecting to see the balcony directly opposite. I could kind of make out an angle if I squinted, but it was very indistinct and could have been the angle to anything. Was the balcony there just because I remembered it was?

5:30 is a bit early for these musings, I know. Once I started, however, my thoughts followed each other as if they wanted to make some logical order to form an understanding.

How did I really know the balcony was there? The shapes could be anything, and it was my belief in its construction that made the balcony into something. But what if things only have a shape because we hold them that way in our heads? Sometimes things or people seem larger than life when we are young, but when we see them later we may be disappointed at how small they look. They're not what or how we thought they were.

So, if it's true that we create our own reality, was I just manifesting the balcony from a concept in my head? And could that vision change over time?

If we build our own reality, what is real? Is the concrete of the balcony real? It had seemed so solid in the daytime. But could an earthquake crush it if the vibrations were strong enough? In that case, it would be hard to envision how the balcony used to be observing the rubble.

I don't know if these questions have an answer, even fully awake in the afternoon or evening. What do you think?

Photo: Armiche Bolanos Quesada

Text: Kristen Mastromarchi