Living on Pluto: Exoticizing Rubble – March 11th, 2016
“Lawrence of Arabia on mescaline” stretches out as our backyard. Or, as a dear friend recently said ‘it looks like the backside of the Las Vegas strip.’
We picked our apartment, sight unseen, from a floor plan, “The Arabian Sea view.” The view from our living room, frankly, is mundane, a vast sandbox and a small cement factory. You have to crane your neck and press yourself against the side of the living room wall to see the water. Even then, the electrical towers that lace the skyline are most prominent. Ha!
But no matter, I still love my Arabian ‘sandbox’ Sea view. It’s sooooo zen. Just one look and my mind empties like a sieve. I’m a human lens, isolating and magnifying elements that spark my imagination.
Each cinderblock becomes a sculpture worthy of an exhibition. The dunes rival Wadi Rum. At night, the cement trucks careening through the darkness are gunrunners, drug-runners or at very least human traffickers. Desert rats are desert prairies. Wildebeests. In short, our Arabian Sea view is a self-willed mirage.
Occasionally, we walk our dog ‘Zues’ in the sandpit where there is a surprising treasure trove of shells and crab carcass, unremarkable in themselves, scratching on our bare feet, but tiny reminders of the sea that washed over Saadiyat island not all that many years ago.
A million stories unfurl, each more suspenseful than the next until the sharp edges of the university come into view and I am reminded of the four walls around me.