what happened

1e39b59a94ae3d29ebb8793f334a7a04The sock, in the terminal PERDU / RETROUVEE, was smothered by the arrival of a particularly colourful thong.


It’s not me- it’s you.

You mean, ‘it’s not you- it’s me.’

No. Definitely you.


White lights in white tiled washrooms highlight freckles. Quiet public washrooms facilitate self-consciousness about sound. Radios leaking tinny-pop muffles the ruffling of sleeves, or other sounds in your public washroom, interrupted by ceci est un dernier appel pour vol XES 78A, destiné à Chicago, This is the final boarding call for flight XES 78A, destination Chicago. This particular washroom is lit twenty-four hours per day.


You look in to other people to look in to your self. How is a waiter supposed to know what you like to eat if you tell them what you have liked before? What if you don’t know anything about the flavour that you will like? How do you know that this schedule of ours is best suited to you- maybe you would function better with a three hour lunch, and work until dark? (What is the best word to describe taste?) What if all the filters on all the dating sites have made you find what you thought was your taste in people, or other versions of your self, when, well, you’re clicking on tastes that have been developed in too many viewings of too many scenes from too many mediocre writers who produced sellable material about what is normal, look, these people act like this and are liked, and these people fail? You judge another person’s interpretation of you after they listen to you talk for a certain amount of days or watch how you moved and things that you did as this objective result on the measurement of who you are.


It’s not me- it’s you.


Three feet are visible beneath the stall door- 2 shoed + 1 sock-less, freckled, toes curling against bleached tile- why do we run to the ones who are indifferent about our existence, why not be indifferent back, why not look through them on the sidewalk- run toward your shared apartment to throw clothes on the street, yell like Hollywood’s irrational woman, out of control with her emotions, so unbecoming, because fitting in somewhere can just feel good.


Mirrors have different shapes: 1. What characters around you say out loud in order to make you align them with ideas. 2. Your reflection in cell phone cases. 3. Legitimate mirrors.


This is not a story of revenge. This is not a story of unrequited love, the struggles of monogamy, like the majority of most things valuable in the Civilized Classics of Our Western Canon. No. This is a story of thirteen minutes in a washroom. This is a story where characters experience events that the writer believes you can relate to. This is that assumption. This is a story that is annoyingly going on about itself instead of telling you what happened in the washroom of Pierre Elliot Trudeau Airport on Friday, March 21st, between 15:22-15-35. This is that masturbatory paragraph.


word by Liam Lachance

colour by Steven Lieske 

read the first scene 

Author: Word and Colour

words inspired by colour wordandcolour.com

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s