I woke up to my flat carpeted with crumpled and unfolded napkins. Malachite green napkins.
Last night to cool off the flat and avoid evil air conditioning, I opened all eleven windows on the three sides of my top-floor flat, and turned on the fan in the living room, and it was fresh and magical. Something near impossible to acheive in Haifa.
No thought was given to the stack of 250 green napkins piled in a neat pile in an African woven basket on the living room table.
I woke up twenty minutes ago to this amazing wind-arragement. In every corner of my flat, from my living room to my own bedroom, on the other side of the flat, and the corridor in between, were unfolded and crumpled napkins. Every single one of them was somewhere NOT on the table.
Now I’ve collected them in a disordered pile and I’m running out the door.
It was the softest mess I’ve ever seen. So soft and delicate, even groggy from waking up too early, it was still, so pretty…