Aleksandra Bienkowska: my own castle on the ground
Creative Writing and Journalism student Aleksandra Bienkowska creates a dark vision of suburban life, inspired by John Piper's illustrations for JM Richards' book, Castles on the Ground.
I have finally found a place I want to live in. A new home, new opportunities, a new life. My own castle on the ground. A small town in the suburbs, where everyone knows everyone’s sins and the smallest desires. Rows of houses where each of them looks the same but is entirely different inside. Just like their owners. My new neighbours, smiling pretentiously. Women with the same sort of make-up, men with their beards shaved in the same manner. Passat B8 parked in most of the long driveways, next to the perfectly trimmed grass and a little mailbox next to the pavement. A perfect family car, with enough space for a family of three, and a buggy in the boot.
illustration by John Piper from JM Richards’ book, Castles on the Ground, Museum of Domestic Design and Architecture, JMR766 https://moda.mdx.ac.uk/object/jmr766/
And there’s me. A childless, beardless, Passat-less, hopeless man with a Mercedes. Despite the obvious fact that I don’t belong here, I decided to give it a chance and optimistically take what the life gives me. I won’t need the local school, nor the church, but I’ll surely take advantage of the greenery here. Each house is surrounded by trees, mostly oaks and willows. Also, there’s a river that flows along the town. The nature already gives me the inspiration to write. I may finally finish my novel, give a chance to my old drafts, or have a go at poetry! In places like that I could even start writing sonnets. Who knows?
People here jog. Each morning. Every single day, I see through the window people running, or walking faster with these sticks. I sip my first coffee – they are probably already at yoga, meditation; a green smoothie, a healthy breakfast, and journaling. All before 7am. Then, they walk their bichon frise, cockapoo, cavachon, and other strangely named breeds of small, perfectly clean, and utterly loud dogs. They walk them sometimes with their children. A perfect family picture. Parents holdings hands, children holding the leash, laughing and fooling around. That reminds me of my mother asking when she can expect the grandchildren. Like if I knew. I don’t even have a partner. Or a dog. I’m not on that level in life – yet. But that’s okay, I’m fine. Everything is still ahead of me. I should enjoy what I have now. Focus on my career. I’m a writer, for heaven’s sakes, my childhood dream. I’m doing well. I may get one of those barking creatures. A first step towards my new life. I’ll be walking the dog each morning, greeting neighbours, getting to know people and the area. I can be like them. I already live in the suburbs. And I must keep living here. I can’t move again. I can’t. I can have a good life like everyone else. I go to the bathroom, passing all the boxes with still unpacked stuff. I look in the mirror. I force a smile, but my eyes always ruin it by telling the truth. I reach for the blades, hidden in the drawer under the sink. My hands are shaking, just like my smile. I keep the eye contact with myself in the mirror. The blade slowly touching the wrist.