Nothing Happens Around Here
To Claudia for opening our eyes to what we see
The story I’m going to tell you began when Claudia saw that person standing between the laundry sink and the fig tree, wearing a white t-shirt, blue jeans and carrying a black backpack. My neighbour can’t remember seeing any feet. She called me so that I came out to see who had said to her, “Good afternoon.” We found no one. We looked in the courtyard, down the stairs, to the rooms at the end, in the small, run-down bathroom, up the tree, but nothing. Nobody came out of the big door, but someone had definitely been there. We had that strange feeling of being watched, but of not seeing anyone.
The tenement block we live in is very old, comparable to any you might find in the city. Because of the rain, the walls ar
