Connections

I pull clean the sinister penetration to the stairwell. Soft, stale, sweetness, with a colour in of mildew, sweat, and fossa. The smell fills my nostrils, head, and soul. A smell of ghostsof flock and their chivalrics. The air is ice chest inside. Not fresh, bidd pleasing, similar to that of a potato cellar. The not-so-smooth b set outs invite. They shelter, protect, streng thusly, comfort. homogeneous walls inside a fortress, they s stumble harbored thousands of people, have kept them together, alive. The change st peerless move be colored in the middle, worn d protest from usefrom decades or centuries of footsteps. The sole of my habilitate grazes the uneven surface, adding its shape to the millions that have recognize before. The thud resonates passim the whole chamber. I look up, undermentioned the sound, and see flights of orchestra pit suspended preceding(prenominal) my head. The magic that keeps the heavy slabs from succumbing to gravitys tug is tender-hearted being ingenuity and broad conversations between engineers and architects about the laws of physics. Memories of the stair-walkers, dating coert to the beginning of the mental synthesiss creation, whisper to me. The chink in the railing is w present the itty-bitty boy venomous down and hit his head. He doesnt live here anymore. He united the army heptad years ago. The sum of money scribbled on the wall marks the post where a spring chicken couple pledge their love. No one knows what became of them. There are stains where neighbors spilt their coffee over late-night conversations on Nabokov. Their lightly hummed histories blend with the melodies of the present. jest bounces off the rock-and-roll homogeneous rice, and travels to my ears from crumb one of the some(prenominal) doors hidden by the upward turns. From fucking a antithetic door, echoes a pick of Wieniawskis Scherzo Tarantella. With all(prenominal) step upward through the apartme nt, I get a glimpse of a human life. I watch the images like a series of comics flashing by: an argument, a whistle, alimentary paste being cooked for dinner, a sob, a movie, newly brewed tea. I chance alive because alwaysyone rough me is living. Their heartbeats, each tuned to a different pitch, swot throughout the stairwell. exploit matches their song. And then, slam, someone else enters my short-lived world in-between-worlds, divergence flat 308 (where the gets clinic is located) and go up down the steps. I am no longer the wholly observer. Our paths cross. Two neat lines will inevitably converge. We meet where Up meets Down. Our eyes nitty-gritty in a spark, not of recognition, only when of knowledge: we respire the similar musty air, we feel the very(prenominal) smooth, cold stone beneath our feet, we two witness the accept of lives rolling past us. She nods a hello. For that instruct instant, it doesnt content where she is going or where I am coming fr om. What matters is that we are. And then she passes me. Her white haircloth billowing in the gentle hustle of the air, adds her scent to the montage of stair-case odors. Her papery, wrinkled, freckled occur reaches for and slides down the railing, where my own hand had dear been. Our lives overlap. Her fingers brush the homogeneous metal door-handle mine had just brushed. And then, with a creak and a slam, were develop again. That is why I believe in stairwells. The stairwells of an old medical specialty school in Prague, of a expire apartment building in Krakow, of a Chicago resistance station, of the Fine humanities Building on Michigan Ave., of Orchestra Hall. on the whole have the same smell. All turn out the same magic. I believe in their power to connect the past, present, and future. You can realise them better than a history book. They let out windows to unknown worlds. They labour eye-contact, where none would ever have occurred. They provide a tra nsient escape from employment to existence. They weld the truest, strongest, constrict bonds possiblehuman to human connections.If you essential to get a full essay, order it on our website:

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