A window on the world

He had rented a small apartment, the furnishings of which were far more luxurious than the one I'd stayed in prior. It would never hold a candle to Caethlong but with a good scouring it had potential. It was only half block up from the previous insula and the little diner I remembered could be seen if one crooked their neck to an obscene angle.

I had my own room this time albeit only a few feet by a few feet in measure. One thread bare mat in its center to be the difference between sleeping on the floor itself. My 'room' had a window overlooking the alley and another opened to the street. This one adorned with curved bars that allowed the shutters to open but not allow strangers to scale the two floors below and creep within.

At night I would slip out onto the ledge with the kalika my keeper had given me. It was a gift for the bluish black marks left of wishing silence and finding it if it meant sealing off my breath. The elongated box was worn and scarred. The strings aged enough to need constant tightening to keep it in tune. But there on my little perch I would play the meloncholy songs of Acresius. The songs of Five, the ballads of Pent.

There I had a soul.