Yesterday, on arriving back here after the movie, I saw that the wall across the street remained free of posters – the first and only time that's been the case for a prolonged period of time in the 16 or 17 months I've had this piso. (And when I say "free," I'm ignoring the splotches of white, the remnants of posters past left in the wake of the city crew's last cleaning fit, bits of white that pepper the surface of the wall.) A small splash of decoration had materialized, however – a clothes hanger, hooked to a hollow in the wall's surface, from which, secured at one end by two clothes pins, hung a kitchen towel. Your garden variety kitchen hand towel, nothing fancy or distinctive about it. A bit faded from use, bearing your standard design of homey images and a few words, most of its text composed of blocks of the word "Apples," two columns wide, six words deep, along with images of tea kettles, herbs, wooden spoons, text and graphics all fitting neatly together. Hanging on the wall, like a teensy, lonely, particularly ineffectual and undistinctive tapestry, covering less than a square foot of surface. Completely dwarfed by the wall's long expanse.
I stood staring, a silly smile pasted on my face at the thought that not only had someone gotten the idea for this odd bit of installation art but they'd actually taken the time to put the bugger together. A nicely dressed 30-something woman walked by, possibly on her way home from work, not seeing the hand towel until she drew even with it. For the briefest instant, she stopped, eyes fastened first on the towel/clothes hanger, then taking in the mostly gray, posterless wall, then jerking back to the towel -- her body moving in classic double-take style -- completely, deeply baffled by what she saw, to judge by her expression. The she ignored it, forward motion immediately resuming as her gears re-engaged, high-heeled feed moving on with fast, resolute steps, herself never looking back.
When I stepped out of the building this morning, the clothes hanger/hand towel were gone, the wall bare. On my return from class a short time ago, the first of block of posters had appeared, the normal cycle of local life finally reasserting itself.