stickers

Last year I was thinking. Reality exists independently of us, but does it even matter? I will always be anchored in my small, limited point of view. I can pretend that my eye could float beyond my body and reach universal understanding, I could cry in saddness thinking that the only rule that dominates existence is suffering. But no matter what, I am still me, and I have always been me, and I will always be. I can imagine universes without me, but they still cannot take form without me.

I can enjoy it or not, but this same reality I live in it’s just the light passing through the lens of my being. And the lens is an artist in this continous process of creation.

I wrote this story trying to explore this ides.

I know that the premise can sound solipsistic. Depending on the day, I found myself oscillating between being the whole universe and being but a fold of the universe itself. I wrote a story about that, but it’s for another time.

(The original story is in Italian, this version has been translated using DeepL and then manually revised)

the story

A day like any other. The four concrete walls were silent. A few dust particles floated in the electric neon light. A boy was sitting on a metal bed. The rest of the room was empty, bathed in a homogeneous grayness that made the contours less real, like a fog that the eye could not scratch. He was standing still with his legs crossed, leafing through a scrapbook with a thoughtful expression. With every slightest movement the bed springs groaned. Their high-pitched squeaking suddenly filled the room, and the still air listened, waiting for something to happen. Even the neon lights for a moment stopped humming, holding their breath. His fingers ran over the old pages of the album. All around him on the crumpled sheets stood his collection of stickers. Here was a lake, a few faces, a door just beyond. He had never yet had the courage to paste any of them. What would he do if he was not satisfied with his choice? Perhaps that might have been the day. Effectively he was more bored than usual. He let his gaze wander over all those rectangles of shiny paper. So many beautiful colors. He did not know where they came from; they had always been in the room with him. He remembered playing with them when he was still a child. At first he did not know exactly what he was supposed to do with them. He liked to stack them all in a big tower and try to balance it on one hand. Then, when they inevitably began to fall, he would throw them into the air, letting them fly all over the room. Over time he had become more cautious for fear that they might be ruined and had begun to appreciate those little pictures more and more. Without thinking about it his fingers had stopped on one of his favorite figures. It depicted a bright sun in the center of a sky of a blue he had never seen. It was so beautiful, it made him feel warm. Maybe he would start with that one. He could put it on the first page, right in the middle, so it would set the tone for the rest of the album. He was reminded of when he had first discovered that they could be glued together. It had happened by mistake, one had fallen under the bed and in trying to retrieve it he had torn off one corner, revealing its sticky surface. Filled with curiosity he had placed it on the wall next to the pillow. When he had realized that he could no longer remove it without destroying it he had been seized with panic. How could he leave it there on that sad wall? It would have been lonely away from all its companions. Unlike the others it was a silver color without any image. Until the day of the accident he had enjoyed using it as a small mirror to make the reflection of the neon light dance on the walls of the room. Once it was glued to the wall, however, it had become impossible for him to do so, but he had begun to appreciate being able to mirror himself before falling asleep at night. It was interesting to watch his reflected image, moving his mouth, puffing out his cheeks, occasionally catching his own gaze. Probably that would have been the best sticker to place on the first page, so opening the album he would always see himself again, as if to make sure he had his own permission before he could continue reading. He was not very satisfied with his reflection though. There were many other people’s faces in his collection, all with beautiful colorful backgrounds. It took him a few seconds to find the one he had in mind. It was a portrait of a girl, about his age. She had long red hair that fell disheveled over her shoulders. Her eyelids were half-closed to protect her clear eyes from the bright light. Who knows what she was thinking? Her lips seemed to be barely parted in laughter, as if someone had just told her something funny but she was trying to keep herself from bursting out laughing. Who knows what they had told her? He could not find an answer.

-Why are you laughing?- he asked curiously facing the image.

If he had been in her place, what would have made him laugh? He imagined being there in that sunshine, his face bathed in light, he could almost feel its warmth. For a moment he forgot about the girl. No, he wanted to know what had made her laugh.

-Why are you laughing?- he asked again. He paused in listening, expecting an answer other than the hum of neon.

The girl’s gaze moved to meet the boy’s.

-My friends are calling me to go swimming, they jumped into the water without even taking their clothes off- she said in an amused voice- now they are asking me to take the ball with me because they forgot it on the shore-

-Where are you going swimming?- he knew from some of his stickers what swimming meant, but he was very excited to be able to hear it described in the first person, it sounded like so much fun.

-We are at the lake, the water is still freezing, but with such a warm sun it is pleasant-

-Tell me more, please, what will you do at the lake?

-For now we will enjoy the cool weather, later we brought some fruit and chocolate for a snack, we saw a corner of the meadow in the shade of a large oak tree-

-Describe how you got there. What is it like to sit in the shade of a tree? What does chocolate taste like?- so many questions crowded the boy’s mind, he wanted to know so many things, he wanted to feel the grass under his feet and the cold water on his skin, he wanted to know what it was like to play ball. The girl now could no longer hold back her laughter. He let her laugh. That sound made him feel there with her.

-I’m sorry, but the others are waiting for me, I must say goodbye- With a gentle gesture of her hand the girl waved goodbye to him before turning and disappearing from the picture, leaving only a sun-drenched meadow in its place. For a moment he seemed to hear the sound of friends in the distance and the splashing of water. But it was only a moment, then silence returned. He looked around, his eyes taking a few seconds to readjust to the faint light. The four walls continued to stare at him motionless. What was he doing? Perhaps he had an idea. With impatient gestures he began to move the stickerss around to look for one in particular. It had to be there somewhere. There it was! It was a picture of a colored plastic ball. Thin hands held it up, but nothing else appeared in the scene. He recognized those hands, though! One of them had greeted him just now! His gaze was drawn to the sticker depicting a lake. The shore was covered by tree foliage, and the water moved placidly rippling among the rocks. But someone was standing nearby. They were playing and laughing. A ball suddenly landed in the water in front of the boy raising splashes all around. Feeling the icy water on his chest, he missed his breath. There he was, sitting on his wet bed with the sticker in his hand. He laughed. The smell of vegetation filled his nostrils. He could hear the cries of the boys, closer this time, just beyond the edges of the picture. He looked around, still the gray room. Only now in his water-soaked clothes did he realize how cold the neon light was. Suddenly an idea came to him. He went to search for the image of the sun he had admired moments before. With numb fingers he removed the protective film from the back of the paper, stood on tiptoe on the mattress and stuck it up on the gray concrete. He stood for a moment looking at it until the sunlight became so intense that it hurt his eyes. He felt the heat on his skin and the lake water slowly drying leaving the smell of seaweed on his skin. He turned toward the room, the concrete showing unfamiliar irregularities under that new blinding light. The hum of neon paled until it disappeared. He returned to sit on the still damp bed. He lay fully immersed in the sunlight. He closed his eyes and imagined himself on that lawn, just out of the water, his friends still swimming and chasing each other throwing the ball. He could feel the blades of grass bending under the weight of his body. He opened his eyes and turned toward the wall. A few inches from his face his reflection was watching him serenely. His hair shone through the green vegetation, and behind him the lake sparkled in the afternoon heat.

-How do you feel?- he asked himself.

-I’m tired, I’ve never swam before, but I can’t wait to taste the chocolate- his reflection replied, smiling.

He knew what to do. He stood up sharply. The bed springs groaned once more. He began to move the stickers around in search of the one he had in mind. When he finally found the picture of the door he walked determinedly toward the concrete wall. He pasted it at his chest level and stood contemplating his handiwork. “This is how it should be” he thought contentedly. He reached out a hand toward the handle. The metal was cold under his fingers. He turned one last time toward the room. By now with the sun shining over the bed it no longer resembled that gray room in which he had spent his entire life. He bent down for a moment to check his reflection in the small mirror beside the pillow, but the now opaque surface was blank. He threw open the door with a confident gesture and took his first step into the world. The grass tickled his ankles and the waves crashed behind him. In the distance, in the shade of an oak tree, the boys were breaking some chocolate. “I hope they don’t finish it” he thought with a laugh as he walked in their direction.