Hobbies

 When you are new somewhere, it can be a bit complicated to adapt; the people, the customs, everything can be quite different, and when it is already hard to fit in when you are young, as an adult it gets harder as you get older.   

That's what I understood once I had to move to a new city, chasing a good job opportunity. I simply moved to a new city, knowing that the job would provide for my subsistence, and I no longer worried about my social circles. Eventually, friendships drifted away and fitting in at the new workplace was worse than difficult, everyone was kind, but there was really no one close enough to me to share a drink with after work, or a weekend afternoon.  

Was then when Jerry invited me to go hunting one day. It was deer season and he wanted to get some, and by my side, I found it a very cool idea. Jerry was a quiet guy, perhaps the most withdrawn guy in the whole office. No one interacted with him at all, but that didn't stop other work mattes from talking about him behind his back, lots of rumours and nonsense. Such a punctual, responsible and discreet guy must be someone relatively normal, or at least that's how I saw him, something like almost my own reflection in that guy.   

The day of hunting came and everything went smoothly, I would say we connected quite well, he was very kind, very considerated in everything, and we certainly had a great afternoon. That's when he started telling me more about himself, about his life, about his interests and hobbies, and what caught my attention the most was a hobby that was quite curious to me.    

Taxidermy was what he normally used to spend the hours of his lonely days, which I found fascinating. Upon returning, he invited me to stop by his house and showed me his collection. It was impressive. The quality of his pieces was extraordinary, so much so that some even seemed to be alive, they had very natural positions and even expressions and the care and affection he gave to each one was something that undoubtedly made them maintain an immaculate appearance. Yes, it’s something strange, not suitable for everyone, but for those who can appreciate it, it’s pure art.   

And I was among those people. I was fascinated, I asked him about his methods, about his tools and finally, he, by himself offered to give me a little lesson on how to do it, to which I gladly accepted. That's how I started to unwind in this little world.    

After that, things at the office were better for me, I had finally managed to fit in with someone, and truth be told, it was much nicer than being alone all the time, at least for me. After a while, I used to spend every weekend at Jerry's house, having a beer, having a barbecue or watching a game together, and of course, enjoying our particular hobbies.    

At Jerry's house there was a room full of his works, and one special corner was what he called his "chimeras", mixtures of various animals that when combined had a sometimes frightening, but usually fascinating appearance. At the end of that room, a door led to a staircase leading own to the workshop in the basement, and down there, a huge work table stood out in the center, surrounded by all kinds of tools and materials. At the bottom, an almost imperceptible door was visible, yet I never wanted to ask about it. Nor should I have looked behind it.  

Rumours about Jerry said he had been married, and his wife had been seen pregnant on a few occasions, but they were never seen with the baby. Eventually, his wife disappeared and they never heard from her again. Everyone assumed that, after losing their child, she simply abandoned him. It was strange, but these things happens, don't they?  

All at once it all came together. The horror I saw there made me want to puke and run away in a hurry. Jerry was preparing his masterpiece there, a woman jointed on all fours, like a chimera, with a face of despair and suffering, with little heads sticking out from her back, like little babies peeking out from between her skin, with sunken eyes and features that looked like something out of a nightmare. And if that was scary enough, feeling a hand touching my shoulder from behind didn't help things any better.  

 

Neighbourhood

 My neighbourhood is a very peculiar place, picturesque and full of very particular people. Even though we are all very different, we usually try to get along as well as possible.   

We live in a private neighbourhood, with private security, and they keep an eye on the area and also intervene in case there is any kind of conflict here.  

My neighbour Jack is a quiet guy, too quiet maybe, he is an introverted guy who is always scratching his neck due to the fact that, according to him, everything is full of dirt and that makes him feel distressed and upset and he usually prefers to lock himself up and not go out and interact with others. He's a nice guy, but cleanliness is something that obsesses him.  

A little further down the road lives Elly, a woman in her forties who always says she lives with her whole family, but whom we have never seen. Sometimes in the evenings we often hear conversations coming from her property, but no one has ever seen anyone enter or leave her house. In fact, some of us think she pretends to be all those people herself.  

John is the noisy guy in the neighbourhood. He tends to yell quite a bit, even when he's all alone. Someone mentioned that he has a very serious trauma from his past and yelling is his way of enduring it.  

Jamie often tells us stories that none of us really believe. In fact, many of us believe that, if he doesn't have a problem with lying, he probably has hallucinations or something similar, because he always seems to be telling the truth. Despite that, he's not a bad guy.  

Other neighbours are more difficult, such as Hank, a quite difficult subject to deal with, because, although it seems that everything is going well, occasionally his mood can change to become totally aggressive, so it’s best to not interact much with him.  

Also difficult to deal with is the neighbour at the end, Nick, who claims to be the king of the neighbourhood, and according to whom we are all his minions. Some simply assent so as not to confront him, but a few plays along him more seriously.  

One of them is Patrick, who claims to be the royal executioner. On a few occasions he has attacked other neighbours, claiming to be under the orders of his king. The security guards have intervened and there have been no more serious problems, but it is always unsettling to others.  

Lately, things have become a bit tense, after the arrival of somebody new to the neighbourhood; Dan, a charismatic, convincingly speaking but totally normal looking guy. But he and Nick definitely don't get along, and have even formed sides among the neighbourhood, what has caused the security guards have to be on alert all time. At first, I didn't understand the reason for the discord, but little by little it all became clearer. To this day, different schedules have even been established for the use of public spaces in the neighbourhood between members of the different sides. It is strange perhaps to have such a dispute, but when one of the neighbours claims to be the king of the neighbourhood, with several people in his favour, while other claims to be the messiah saviour of the world, and has several followers, I think it’s normal that there can be certain tensions. 

 

We even have to eat at different times... 

Yes, Sometimes, things in the Mental Hospital can get pretty wild.  

Traveler

 What a beautiful life I have had!  

 After securing financial success with several successful investments, things became much easier. I had no longer to worry about the lack of anything, in fact, I could even enjoy many privileges, such expensive clothes, a nice car, dinners in good restaurants, I could even correct my teeth and replace that tooth that when I was young I had lost for a removable piece, which although, it is not the most practical, it is the best to keep it well cared for, at least for me. Oh, and I have also dedicated myself to my great passion, which is traveling.   

After my first trip abroad, I discovered how much I enjoyed it and I promised myself that I would see as many places as I could, and that's what I have done. I have no words to describe how much pleasure I get from getting to know new places, immersing myself in other cultures and being able to deal with people so different from me.   

The feeling of seeing the majesty of the pyramids of Egypt is unparalleled, seeing those buildings several thousand years old makes you think about how insignificant we are, and how short our lives are in comparison.  

 Seeing the Moai of Easter Island up close, those imposing stone statues make you feel shocked. They hold so many secrets that it is impossible to fully understand them, and even more impossible to understand why they are in a place so far away from the rest of the world.   

 In front of Stonehenge you can only think, apart from the beauty of the place, of the intelligence of the people who built that monument with such unusual techniques that even today, we are unable to understand.  

In some African countries I could observe with amazement how wildlife makes its way, and how even in the most unusual places nature keeps up a delicate balance that makes everything work.  

 At Niagara Falls, the feeling of insignificance took on a new meaning. Such enormous and powerful waterfalls can only amaze and astound you and leave you in awe of their enormous beauty.  

 And, in short, each of the places I have visited has had its own outstanding and breath-taking sights that have made every cent spent worth, and every minute spent in such places totally memorable. But always, everything has a less pleasant side, and in my case, it's having to go through so many airports constantly. The whole process of leaving one country and entering another is always tedious.   

And not to mention the baggage check. That's where I always have the most unpleasant moments. The staff is usually very serious, and when they scan the few things I carry with me, I always have to answer, in airport after airport, the same question: "Why do you have a tooth in your luggage? It's pretty standard, really, but it always turns me a little nervous. But after opening my mouth and showing the agents that one of my teeth is missing, they usually assume I've lost it during the trip and don't ask any more questions.   

 Hopefully will never come the day when they check the origin of that tooth I usually take with me when I return home. One for every country I've visited. One for every person I've killed there.