Sonia Lins

The story of a girl who left home while others slept and she dreamt. Didn’t know but knew the house wanted to expel her like excrement so the girl ran over the barn’s slippery steps.

She hit the road, her legs speeding. Green East West. South under her feet over the red clay. The road in colic contorsions. Before hitting the curve, the girl twisted her neck to still see the house fading away, thinking about how to ever go back, not knowing even where she was heading. One of the road’s curves swallowed the house – a vanished house that was no longer the place where she would wake.

Road bending in countless curves, like a giant screwdriver lying under her feet on the red clay. The house that ceased to be was a magnet inside the girl’s head while the stretching-shrinking road was an accordion bellowing out soundless music.

The open square spreading like a white blanket under the girl’s feet which no longer obeyed the commandment to march all the way back home while a bench invited the girl to sit down.

Birds, leaves, tree plumage flying. The girl’s eyes wandered about houses coming to meet her and a voice inside her ear told her she knew where she lived though she didn’t know she knew.

The girl rose to look into one of the houses. The very same slippery steps of the barn were there but the house kept its mouth shut. No longer a door for her to step through.

The girl took the ladder on her shouders trying to reach an open window under the ceiling. The back of the cupboard blocked the window not allowing her to get through the opening that the house was offering only to take it back. The girl pushed the cupboard asking for passage and jumped through the window to find that the inside of the house was the outside. The furniture was gone and with it those who slept while the girl dreamt.