Reading: "KALAS" (A.Glass 2020)
After showering she dresses in her usual style of a compression style black tights beneath an antique colored Fuschia flowing skirt with its two slits, which begin at the thigh, extending down the outside of her legs. As the colder weather has descended over the city – she chooses to wear an athlete style support bra with a fine wool fitted top. Tying her hair back into a ponytail, she places on a thermal vest, with its stylized symmetrical hood. From her lounge window Kalas looks over the East Side at the buildings that line East River, lifting her cup of coffee. Sipping it, gazing up at the overcast sky, her view switches back to the city's skyline and its mass of skyscrapers built from glass and steel. A humanistic creation looming as a gleamed radiance. Like a glittering apparition of wealth and power, yet the city itself has gone through a tumultuous period, in its power structure, wealth and the age old struggle of financial inequality have manifested throughout the years. New York's state office has attempted to stimulate the city's economy with planned credit and debt variants to create new projects, only exacerbating the problem as corruption has manifested from the urban decay. Kalas turns her head slightly downward towards street level. From behind her apartment block is a collection of older, more established buildings of Manhattan, she continues sipping her coffee, whilst studying the newer constructed apartment blocs. Built to entice investors from China and Russia, in which they lay empty, with some of the lower levels deemed as ghost apartments. She exhales, returning her gaze to the horizon, as her thoughts remain focused. Turning away from the window she walks back towards her galley kitchen.
With her right hand she turns the hot water tap, in a transfixed way with both hands Kalas washes the cup, lifting off a paper towel from a dispenser above the sink. She dries the empty mauve colored ceramic cup, staring blankly ahead at the white kitchen cupboards, her mind drifts back to her last job. With her left hand, Kalas lifts her cellphone that is sitting on the bench top, viewing the time and weather report, noting today is the start of Autumn. She then checks the train time table. “I'll catch the eight ten...due soon,” she says to herself, whilst still holding the phone in her left hand, she looks over her finger nails, with her right hand she taps her back pocket ensuring she has her travel and debit card.
At street level, Kalas lifts the fabric of her hood, so that it contours the back her neck, with her right hand she allows her ponytail to fall over her left shoulder as she walks onward towards Twenty Eight Street subway entrance. Thinking back to her dream earlier, as the resonance and its images begin to fade.
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