ORIGINS: When the Brush speaks, we listen. It’s the same pair of windows over and over again. But the panda bear was there, and we went with the flow. Or, in this case, the stains of rain on the wall.
Middle Child: There is no happily-ever-after. There is no picture-perfect home. There are only panda bears. Black and white. You have to take the good with the bad. But I can live with that. I have learned to focus on the things that really matter, on the little things that keep a smile on my face and warmth in my heart, and blur everything else out.
Left Child: I couldn’t care less about good and bad as long as they keep treating me like the king that I am. I come and go as I please. I am the cat of the house, and there is always food on the table for me. That’s the home I am used to, and everything else is just paper on the walls. Not even an afterthought.
Right Child: What have I done to deserve this? Why do I have to share a home with children like you two? You are the reason flowers wilt and cats are aloof. You take up too much space. You are the reason I was told to grow up. Because they needed somebody else to help them keep putting you first.
Middle Child: Crocodile tears and plastic flowers. That’s what I remember. What made me look out the window. At least the flowers on the neighbor’s windowsills were real. And I realized then and there that I would rather fake smiles than tears. But I forgot to pay attention. I was too busy trying to escape. And I let it slip through my fingers. My one and only chance to learn from a Master.
Left Child: I don’t know what to tell you. My window faced north. The closest thing to a neighbor I had was an owl. But it never shared an ounce of wisdom with me. I tried to watch and learn. And that was the death of my home. I let the world in, instead of setting foot in it. And now I don’t have a refuge for my dreams anymore.
Right Child: That’s how you define a home? Four walls? I was told that a home was made out of flesh and bone. The word they used was love. And when they ran out of it, they told me to choose. A white rabbit. A black cat. They came up with uglier names for each other every day. But it could have been worse. They could have just moved on with their lives and left me at the mercy of the elements, without ever looking back.
Middle Child: My home was the sunlight where I used to catnap. Where I used to dream. I never stopped to count my lives. Seven. Nine. I was a child, and I just knew that I would have all the time in the world. That only flowers withered away. It took me a while to learn that dreams are more delicate than flowers. But learn I did.
Left Child: How nice. I only had eyes for the stains of rain on the walls. The cats got my tongue, but the rain stole my warmth and never gave it back. Everything inside those four walls discouraged me from dreaming. I remember the rain. Tears that weren’t mine. There wasn’t a child in sight. Only grown-ups. With nothing left to say.
Right Child: Hahaha. You should count yourself lucky. At least you knew what to expect. What I wouldn’t have given for a trusty moon that worked like clockwork. I never knew when the mood would strike the owner of the house. There was no rhyme or reason to her smiles. They used to wax and wane at all hours of the day. One minute she was shining bright and the next she had withdrawn into herself. And before I knew it, I had grown into an aloof little cat, that only wanted to be left alone.
Middle Child: My home? I am an old-fashioned child; I would rather spend my childhood playing outdoors. So, a home is just somewhere I sneak out of. The window my friends throw pebbles at, when I would rather play with somebody else than dream the little freedom I have left away.
Left Child: That’s the difference between you and me. I have always been a homebody. If I were a cat, I would be scared of water. I have always gravitated towards warm blood. Sunlight. I wanted to be treasured. Loved. But there was no family life in that house. Everybody did their own thing. And since water is thinner than blood, I have no reason to believe that a stranger would play with me. That water would be lukewarm at the most.
Right Child: If I were a cat, curiosity, not water, would be my downfall. I should have left well enough alone. They said that they loved me, and I should never have asked why. Other people seem happy believing that birds are the embodiment of freedom, and I should have followed their example. But I asked. And we love you unconditionally was the answer I got. The one that only made me feel out of place in that home from then on.
Black Cat: Brother, the window is over there. Don’t let those shallow flowers discourage you. They may only have colors to their name, but the panda bear has given me his word. There are depths behind that window that won’t let your curiosity down.
Grey Cat: I am not discouraged. I am entranced. This stain has my eyes. And if there is an ounce of truth to what they say about windows and eyes, those flowers can stay where they are. Far away, like the starry night. Curiosity only leads to tears, and these are the answers that resonate with me.
Black Cat: Not you too. I know that crocodiles don’t have an honest bone in their bodies, but I expected better of you.
Crocodile: I resent that remark. My bones are as white as my sharp teeth. I don’t make a habit of lying to myself. I only use tears to lie to others, and when I have no more use for them, I show them a minimum of courtesy. My teeth. I let them know what I wanted from them all along. One fell swoop. Just one bite. And my prey knows my truth in its bones too.
Black Cat: I wasn’t talking to you.
Owl: But I can’t give you the answer you want. I am wisdom incarnate, not Death’s pet. I want a happy life, not an early grave. My bones are hollow, and I need something I can look forward to lest I spend the rest of my days buried alive in them.
Owl: It’s dinnertime. Do you want the white rabbit or the black cat?
Black Bird Tree: I’m not hungry.
Owl: Don’t be like that. Tonight’s my treat.
Black Bird Tree: I have heard those words before, and I didn’t even get to eat the crumbs. I’m sick and tired of your pellets. If you can’t stomach their bones and their fur, what makes you think that I can? Your garbage may be someone else’s treasure, but I am not that someone. So, if you are feeling generous, fly somewhere else and make a new friend.
Cats: Why don’t you go inside the house? Unlike us, you aren’t a stray. You have a better place to shelter from the rain.
Skeletal Girl: No, I don’t. The panda bears have thrown me out. Apparently black and white have their places, and they aren’t interchangeable. I was good where I should have been bad, and bad where I should have been good. I clashed with the décor, and it brought tears to their eyes.
Cats: But not to yours?
Skeletal Girl: No. I have decided to wait for the rain.
Cats: Here?
Skeletal Girl: Here. Do you see those flowers on the windowsill? They are mine. I used to water them every night, before going to sleep, and it worked like a charm. I always woke up from the sweetest dreams. But I don’t have to wake up anymore. This is goodbye. And as soon as the rain washes off their colors and they trickle down my cheeks, bleeding into all my blacks and all my whites, I will leave, never to return. I will grow up. And that will be that.
Girl: If I let you take my tongue, would you do something for me? I know that you aren’t a shooting star but granting my wish should be well within your reach.
Black Cat: Let’s hear it.
Girl: Would you be so kind as to trade places with that white cat over there? I have already figured out that it is my future and you are my past, but I don’t need hope. I don’t need a light at the end of the tunnel. What I need is a light beaconing me home. I would rather remember that I was happy than keep walking towards an unreachable happiness. Because the present is a grey cat that will never live up to the future. And from now on I would rather embellish my memories.
White Birds: Please, please, please! We are trapped! And our songs aren’t high-pitched enough to shatter glass. Please, please, please! Get us out!
Black Bird: I tried my best. I found the crack, and I tried to lengthen it. I thought that it was a heartstring, and I would be able to pull at it. But now my beak is stuck, and I am just as trapped as you.
Left Girl: I can’t take it anymore. Let me open the window before I burst into tears, please.
Right Girl: I don’t think so. You wanted a pet, and I told you that you would be responsible for it. Pretty flowers weren’t enough for you. You wanted flapping wings, something akin to a heartbeat. I gave it to you. And you will listen to that song until the bitter end.
Black Cat: Move. You are in the way. I am mapping my world, and I want those flowers in it, but I have no use for you.
Panda Bear: Tough luck. I was here first. If you don’t want to let me in, take a detour.
Girl on the Window: Look, it’s that cat again. I am starting to feel sorry for him. Should I throw him a flower? What do you think?
Boy on the Window: Nah, he is not a dog. There is no reason to throw him a bone.
