Nov. 14-Visualization Journal By Steven Xie
“Their kitchen floor is yellow and orange linoleum squares instead of the white with gold flakes that we have, and Sal’s bed is up against a different wall in the bedroom. But we have the same bathroom floor—these white hexagonal tiles. If I look at them long enough, I can see all kinds of patterns in those hexagons: lines, arrows, even flowers. They kind of shift into these different pictures. It’s the sort of thing a person would never try to explain to anyone else, but once, when we were little, I told Sal about it, and then we went into his bathroom to stare at the floor together.” I can visualise from “Their kitchen floor is yellow and orange linoleum squares instead of the white gold flakes that we have” that there a beautifully lighted kitchen with countertops of bright blue marble and that are carved with symmetrical linoleum golden and tangerine tiles, which reflect the multiple glowing domes of light on the ceiling, patterned like a chessboard across the kitchen. However, misplaced objects are scattered all over this apartment room, with dirty knives still on cutting boards and the remnants of a recent meal in the sink, reeking with the odour of rotten food. Bits of food littered the carpeted floor next to the countertop, where a small, circular table stood, which was short, sturdy, and enduring; you could see the scratch marks on it from years and years of use. The sounds of footsteps and yells of delight burst through the room, as two siblings race around the room with sticks, while a worried mother speeds after them, her white robe flashing around the table. In another part of the apartment building, I see a different kitchen, with cocoa-colored counters of granite and a floor of white gold flakes, crisscrossing and snaking its way all over the floor, almost as if it were alive. The only sound was the quiet whirr of the fan and the tumbling of the washing machine, and hexagonal lights extended from the ceilings. I see this in my mind as I know the building they are in is an apartment building, and I usually see such apartments to be well maintained, but a little on a dirty, noisy and rowdy side; I have never actually lived in an condo before, and I can only relate to what I experienced as a visitor. On the other hand, when the author describes the linoleum squares, I would think that they were very mechanical, symmetrical, and angular; on the other hand, “flakes” registers in my mind as more natural, curved, and winding, as flakes are not sharp or as geometrical. I hear rowdy noises and disturbances in the first apartment, as I would think the normal square tiles were for families that were somewhat poor (poor families usually had more children), and the second kitchen seemed more rich, the tiles organic shapes symbolizes the family to have power
and have greater wealth than the first; therefore everything is clean, and there are no noises as rich families usually have little or no children. I can see from “Sal’s bed is up against a different wall in the bedroom. But we have the same bathroom floor—these white hexagonal tiles. If I look at them long enough, I can see all kinds of patterns in those hexagons: lines, arrows, even flowers. They kind of shift into these different pictures” that in the first apartment, there is a small, twin bed in a small, carpeted room, with a wooden writing desk in a corner, and a half-full bookshelf in another corner. A window gave a nice view of the city outside, cars streaming all over the roads. The bed has a wooden frame that smells of musty cedar, the bed sheets unmade and lumped off to one side of the bed. The room had a cozy aura to it, relaxing and felt at home to me when I visualised it. There was a lamp on the writing desk, and another lighted dome on the ceiling. There was a carpeted passage off to a rather large bathroom, in which the floor was made up of hexagonal tiles positioned in a mesmerising pattern, in which the longer you look at it, the more you see than just white tiles. There is a marble sink, and cabinets of toiletries lining the wall, and a white bathtub is in the corner, opposite to a small shower with a glass door. The metal faucet shined brilliantly, catching my eye in my mind, along with the glistening shower, but the cold floor made the room feel uncomfortable to be in for long. I see this, as even though the kitchen is messy and unclean, every apartment I’ve been to so far has had a beautiful bathroom, and the bedrooms may be slightly messy, but comfortable, as to be overly clean makes me feel uncomfortable. I see Sal’s bedroom like mine, although smaller, as my bedroom does have a window, a writing desk, and a bookshelf, although my bookshelf is full to the brim; the smaller scale shows how the family is not very wealthy. The bathroom is like mine, as it felt that way to me; small but nice, clean, but slightly cold floor, though enchanting, is hard to bear for a long period of time.