Persian Westender

I’ve been in a romantic relationship with the balcony of my apartment.

In the last 3 months (until yesterday) we had been happily engaged and believe it or not, about three days ago we decided to get marry in a formal sense. Although, sometimes I miss the periods when I was foot loose and fancy free - the period which i used to friskily march through other parts of the apartment- but now in fact I am much more excited about my present relationship and this event. Based on gradually formed poetic and emotional feelings, I decided to be committed to this new life and to be present where I am feeling attached to something (someone). I guess almost same thing is true with my dear balcony, since despite that it had many opportunities for observing and scrutinizing ‘outsiders’, it chose me and preferred to be with me.

To give you a picture on how the feelings between us was being fermented, I should say  I clearly remember those days when I was walking through the rooms or living rooms, and the jealous eyes of balcony was following me. It couldn’t tolerate my presence in other places. Or when I was in my bedroom at night I could hear my balcony whispers romantic sweet lullabies to me. On the other hand, my own feelings toward it started in those sunny and relaxing days, when I could sleep in her arms like a baby. I always have had the best experience of my residency when I was in the balcony. The BBQ, relaxing and tanning, getting a fresh air, gradually made me realized that I am kinda emotionally attached to this tiny and shiny place. Then I realized it’s not just an attachment-like a handyman attaches to his tool box; it was something more than just having a good time. It was more than that. There was an emotional need, being there and watching the world through its eyes was like an addiction for my soul. Besides, I could relate to her in many ways, and I always admire her foresightedness. Amazingly, I never had a different perspective to the world other than it, and such commonality was rare. After a while, I even started to sleep in the balcony at night. (I won’t go to the private stuff, cuz its inappropriate to talk about it in a public forum.)

In many occasions, as soon as my presence in the apartment could formally be registered I never was able to resist not being in the balcony, even on the rainy days. Except for sanitary purposes in which I needed to pee or take a shower, I rarely used other sections of the dwelling. In the day of the engagement I threw that crimson Persian silk rug on its floor to give it a gift.

Perhaps, you know about this typical but traditional depiction of romance; when a man arrives in a home, and warm arms of a partner embrace him. Right? In my case, it was my balcony and I whom impatiently were waiting for each other to be held.

Suffice to say, in my opinion our relationship could be reflection of only one thing and that is “Love”….

Amma….. it was until yesterday when something unknown happened between us, in which indicated to me how romantic relations could be fragile and flimsy like a gooz. When I entered the home and as usual headed to the balcony, it refused to open the door. While I unsuccessfully was struggling to open it, I could see from the glass that the floor was wet, showing my little balcony had cried. The balcony had lucked its door. Something must have happened which made the balcony upset and resented toward me.

I still don’t know what the hell is going on and believe me it is agonizing!

I tried to talk to it from window of the bedroom, but it says at least for a while it doesn’t want to see me. It wants to be alone…Right now we both silently are watching the sunset.

P.S.: I know this piece needs editing, and I need reconciliation with my editor as well.