The Disappearing Property

How can a property disappear on a cold still evening in June 2007?

I had the address, the code for the gate and instructions that the key was in the letterbox. I was in South Yarra at the end of the day to view a property that we are to manage. There was no gate to punch in a key code and no letterbox to collect a key. It was becoming dark and the streets lights were on - the street numbers harder to see. Number 27 was definitely not there Workers headed home. Dogs and their owners returned from Fawkner Park. Number 27 did not make it home while I was there.

Lights flicker on in the front rooms of the houses and units and bright televisions screens beamed out. In one room a large glass of white wine waited on a pale wood table. In another a couple leaned on a kitchen bench, talking.

I remember a train journey in Korea where the tracks snaked through a high-rise complex. The train windows offered flashes of the world inside the units. People sat on the floor in front of television sets, kitchens had benches stacked high with dishes, a huge elaborate bed dominated one room and another had pictures and mats but no furniture. These tiny private views came and went as the train stopped, slowed and speed away. It was as if I had been absorbed in these rooms for that fleeting moment. I wanted more. I wanted to stay longer.

Today I saw a world that was like mine. Cosy and familiar. Then I was back in my car and heading down Chapel Street. The shop lights lit up squares of pavement and people surged up and down the footpath.

At home I put on my lights and pulled my blinds. I’m selfish. I keep my life away from the passer-by. I don’t want to share. I put the heater on high and felt cosseted. This is my house. I no longer rent and on a night like tonight the house embraces me.

S, my little cat, crouched by her food and I crouched beside her to encourage her to eat. She wandered to the heater. As far as I can judge she has eaten nothing today. I’ll try an appetite enhancer to night.

I pour myself a glass of red wine. Let others have white. Tomorrow, I need to find Number 27 and take photos of it.