By Martyn Wendell Jones
When I moved into this apartment with my wife after gaining Canadian immigration clearance, I noticed, standing on our balcony, two apartments in the public housing building across from us.
The first apartment, near the center of the building and four stories below us, was always visible at a sharp angle from above, and inside it I always saw someone I came to refer to as the Sad Man. He’s there now—I just checked—lying in black clothes on top of the sheets on his bed, presumably looking at a television mounted across from him and obscured by the outer wall.
The Sad Man is very old, and every time I look into his apartment he’s lying there, or just getting up, or just lying back down. I’ve never seen anyone in his apartment with him.
Two floors above the Sad Man’s apartment and one unit to the right is his spiritual twin, the Sad Woman, into whose apartment I have a deeper sightline on account of the shallower angle. [Read more...]