People in the neighbourhood: the perfectionist clean couple
Their house is a geographical impossibility, a sharp brick triangle squeezed mercilessly into the fork of two streets. Yet, within this cramped geometry, they have achieved total dominion over their surroundings. He is the pilot of the ground floor. The entire street level is nothing but a massive garage, into which he needs to maneuver his bright red car. When he does, traffic has to stop. Time has to stop. He treats the public road as his private driveway, confidently halting the flow of neighborhood traffic to back into his tight berth with millimeter precision. I watch and observe his calm assertiveness that came with his many years of practise, while he finishes the maneuvers that would stress me out. She, meanwhile, is the custodian of the perimeter. Armed with a broom and dressed in her morning bathrobe, she executes a daily war against the city's debris. She sweeps the sidewalk and scrubs the street gutter until the asphalt is practically dust-free. She nods a good morning...
