What I’m looking at is a blank wall with a cut-out window. One of those cheap windows that one finds in an apartment complex, complete with the long-slatted blinds that hang and can be twisted to open or shut. They are also a flat white. Flat white drab isolated boring. The memory of these slatted blinds is just an emotional reverb from the past. When I see the blinds I feel a slight twinge inside, a shudder, a tremor of unpleasant emotion that’s epicenter is from when I was 19 years old, or less. Even 16. My best friend Patricia and I hung out every day that we could manage at her domicile, her parents’ apartment in a mid-rent area. Those blinds call to mind us going to older men’s apartments there to smoke pot. I was in constant and continual and driven need to be continually high every waking moment. That was a tall order over 20 years ago, before the days of technological advances such as cellphones. It was also before the days that ‘kind bud’ was available en masse, and also before the days of legal weed. There were many hurdles to cross to get my fix. Lack of money was also one of the biggest, even if the others were there in force. But back to that tremor of unpleasant emotion… it is a feeling of emptiness, of desperation, of un-belongingness even among others that these blinds remind me of. They are symbols of betrayal to myself and lack of love that was apparent everywhere in my life. My choices had led me down a path of dissolution and separation from my family, my life was driven by my pot smoking and other drug taking and I had a very difficult time trying to hide it from my parents. If they could have been a bird on my shoulder seeing all the places I went and things I did, they would have been deeply disturbed. Once they did find evidence in a letter I had written to my friend about party plans we had, they did take drastic action, in sending me to rehab at 17. That tremor, though, that is what interests me. The tremor of a seismic wave of emotion that still carries weight, even when I see these blinds today, there is a smidgen of reverberation in my heart, when it sees the blinds, it beats with a small traumatic memory of emotion, untethered to anything unless I put conscious effort into remembering, which I don’t.