Matilda Flóra Ősz

Oh, my back hurts so much, I sighed while opening my eyes. I heard the murmuring ocean near my head and the quarrel of the seagulls. I did not really understand where I was, my memories were twisted, my mind was blank and my migraine increased as I pushed myself up into a sitting position.

I shouted “Hey, anyone here?” through the forest, but no one answered me.

I knocked. No one answered. I knocked again and again. I opened the door in rage and fear. The landscape changed every few minutes, my clothes’ started to switch colours, and the house I walked into was like a labyrinth.

After walking for hours I stopped, because I saw a badly executed part of the wall. My intuition was right, it was a secret door that led to a bright spot.

The room was built from different coloured cubes and a person was sitting in the middle of this madness of a place.

Are you alright? I asked. They answered with only two words: never better.

Can you tell me where am I? I said.

You are in a painting. To be exact in all of the paintings in the Lorenzo Museum. You are trapped, they said calmly.

How can I get out? I panicked. I could not even breath properly, I do not even think I articulated all of the words.

You cannot. I tried. For 172 years. You will not feel hunger or fatigue, but in exchange you will not feel anything. You will forget you. But until it happens let’s have a good time, shall we? Tell me about yourself.

They pointed to the corner of the Piet Mondrian, indicating that I should sit down for this.