He had been here before, maybe even many times…. He had seen this very spot before... over on the other side of the city, near the long avenue where he knew the apartment stood... Where he believed his parents lived.
Quite recently, he had decided on a course of action. He would walk to the apartment and make the visit. But the phone call from the corner of the street had been answered in a confusing way and so he had had to walk back… and now this… here… once again.
At least there was a familiarity about what was taking place… the phone call could be made again and the journey undertaken again. The route could be retraced… although he had found that each time he set out there seemed to be aspects to it that led him off course, down streets and into neighbourhoods that were unfamiliar to him… and it was always only in the distance, through a gap in the buildings say, or on a distant hillside, that he would catch sight of his destination. Perhaps he should postpone the visit, the walk across the city… wait until a reliable path was found.
Or perhaps... just call off the whole plan right now... for here, in what he was seeing again and recognising again, lay perhaps a solution to the frustrating cycle of attempt and failure. Here before his eyes was something… a stable spot, that had the potential to carry him back to where he belonged… if only he could hold it steady, now, in his mind, not moving one inch…. still there... still there...
Now he’s gone.

Now he’s here.

PB, 2013
Impossible Documents