The curtains hung like curtains do, heavy navy blue drapes with splashes of red and yellow
on them. They looked expensive, decent curtains. The pattern on them was hard to decipher
while the drapes were so bunched. Though almost drawn, a slight gap had been left so that
the daylight could penetrate the room. Taking advantage of the opportunity, light speared in
reflecting off a large goldfish bowl that was placed on a bookcase close to the window. The
fish bowl had sparkling clusters of gravel in the bottom and a small, model hump-backed
bridge in the centre. But what was odd about the bowl was that though it was full of fresh
water it was empty. It was simply a large, empty goldfish bowl of water.
The shaft of light continued on, illuminating a dust free mantel piece with photographs
neatly arranged. The frames hosting the photographs had an expensive touch, with each one
displaying a picture of a beautiful goldfish. The fish was captured in full body frame in one
photograph and, in another, face on to the camera. The last photograph caught the fish turning
slightly to the rear. Proof that the fish had once inhabited the empty fish bowl was that in
each of the photographs there was a partial glimpse of the hump-backed bridge. All three
photographs were of professional quality. The fish itself was a mature specimen. It was a
bright, golden colour with a splash of white on the tail. Such was the ability and skill of the
photographer that the fish could be said to be swimming in the frames, gliding through crystal
clear water.
The light penetration went further into the room and crept over a warm, fluffy pastel carpet
that was boxed by a solid three-piece suite of soft furniture. Well-worn, well-used and well-
cushioned, the furniture gave the room a gentle ambience, making it the sort of room that
emanated the word cosy. Behind all this, guarding was the lounge door. Solid and painted
cream the door was slightly ajar, but still formidable enough to protect what was within.
Outside, the sun, now dipping behind the horizon, still had the power of light to energise
ones imagination. The light had the ability to connect the empty bowl of water with the
framed fish. With a last burst of light for the day the bowl of water became a beautiful crystal
and the photographs of the fish seemingly became connected to the bowl. It left little to the
imagination to envisage the goldfish gliding its way through the water, swirling past the
hump-backed bridge, living its life once again in circles while breaking the surface
occasionally for food. Undoubtedly it would be a lonely creature but an alive and healthy
one.
Perhaps, just perhaps, that’s what the owner of the room, the house, intended. By leaving a
goldfish bowl full of water they could picture the fish swimming once again in the bowl. Or
was it just purely accidental or an exaggeration of imagination that one could connect the
bowl with the mantel piece photographs?
With the day slowly dying the next daily ritual was about to take place in the room. The
sentinel door now moved slightly, enough to allow a street wise tom cat to slip into the
lounge. Ginger in colour and fat, the cat padded forward, treading over familiar territory
across the carpet and eventually jumping easily on to one of the soft lounge chairs. Tired after
a day of doing what tom cats do, the cat seated itself and looked up at the pictures of the
goldfish. The cat then turned his head to the empty fish bowl, then back again to the goldfish
photographs.
What was going through his cat mind? Was he reminiscing about something he had done
some time ago? Or was he simply hoping that another fish would be swimming in the now
empty bowl? Maybe it was just confusion? It was hard to tell. Finally, the cat curled up next
to one of the cushions, turned its head into his body and seemingly, all at once, fell asleep.
Outside, the sun slipped below the horizon, and the room, in sync with the cosmos, slid
into total darkness.
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