Alon Z / Art / Gorba

The room I am sitting in has two large windows and a non working fireplace. The walls are painted in gray and there’s a wall to wall gray rag covering the floor from side to side. It is much larger than the bedroom I sleep in back at home, and often I find myself just looking into the space of the room, the cavity.

We are on the top floor, facing the back of the house. You can see from the window a row of buildings and their backyards, but not much more than that. When you look at the sky all you see is dark gray occasionally mixed with some lighter shades, pretty much matching the interior. Some days in December are like that in Amsterdam, the owner of the house told me when I checked in.

The house comes with a dog and a cat. You only get to interact with the dog when you come in for a moment or two, they stay with the owner on the first floor. On the top floor, the cat is the real host, although sometimes you might not notice her as she blends so well into the gray rug. She is a beautiful Russian Blue with no visible signs of the blue genes. As gray as the rug and the walls around she perfectly match every detail she walks by.

I am writing a letter to my six years old self, and the cat is loafing on the bed next to me. Someone told me about a service here in Amsterdam that will deliver a letter to my past, but there are some details that may not come through with it. It sounds crazy but I’m willing to give it a try. I've done crazier things in the past, and if the letter makes it through I might be able to avoid these.

The letter sounds very emotional, I’m having trouble getting the message across, which makes me wonder if my six years old self will be even more confused about his future, leading to more complications. I think that I’m going to start over from the beginning, but maybe I should take a shower first. Opening the bathroom door I see that the cat has already beat me to the tub.