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http://www.noise.net/tara



tara. 21. australia. uni. medical imaging. music <3

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add me, i'll more than likely add you back. just comment somewhere so i know who you are :D hooray!

the apartment is large but relatively empty, a trendy warehouse apartment of stainless steel and concrete and glass - lots of glass, entire walls of glass that made them feel at first as though they were on display for everyone passing on the streets below. no one seemed to notice them, though, and instead of going down and looking up to see if they could see inside, they made giant signs asking people to 'wave if you can see us', and held them against the glass. no one waved.

there's a mezzanine floor inside, with an upper floor that doesn't have much of anything, it's a sort of strangely placed indoor verandah which runs around the entire inside of the apartment. it's about a metre wide the whole way across, and is encircled by a bright yellow hand rail. shelves run the length of the upper level walls, and though these shelves are, for the most part, empty, in places they hold books or cds, and the occassional random ornament or plant. you can reach this bookshelf-verandah-mezzanine-floor by a sort of makeshift staircase at the very back of the apartment, made from multi-coloured bricks that always look as though they're about to collapse, but never do. once you're up there, there's not much to do but sit on the edge of the floor and look down at the rest of the house, and watch as people talk and cook and laugh and live, as that is what happens in this apartment.

the apartment itself is pretty much open plan, with an enormous bed placed haphazardly in the middle of it all. the place is lit by soft downlights that artistically highlight the colourful paintings and gorgeous flower arrangements provided by friends. it is home to a girl named tara, a 20-year-old university student who has a habit of drifting in and out of daydreams, and a nameless boy who is perfectly happy to go along with whatever is expected of him, be it snogging other boys, or tolerating hours and hours of enthusiastic monopoly games. she sits cross-legged on the floor with her back against the bed, a cumbersome textbook open on her lap, and stares out one of the giant windows, her mind on everything other than what she's supposedly studying. he lies on his stomach in the bed, entangled in the sheets, his fingers brushing the polished wooden floors, watching her quietly and plotting a way to change the music without her noticing.

the door opens and it is her two best friends, a girl named laura who has recently dropped out of university to become an independant florist, and a boy named niki who is studying at a local art school. they are weighed down by bags of groceries, and are talking laughingly about one or the other of their boys, because they are so content and comfortable with their respective boys that it is perfectly okay to laugh about them with mates. the boys aren't present because the threesome have always thought of themselves as mates, not couples, and though all three friends get along marvellously with all three boys, it has never occurred to them that if one boyfriend is present, all three can just as easily be present. they dump the bags of groceries on the counter that serves as a kitchen bench, casually and easily greet the naked boy in the bed, and sit down next to tara. she closes her textbook and eyes the half-finished game of monopoly on the ground a few metres away.

niki and laura end up at tara's place most evenings, for varying reasons. for niki, it is just down the road, and serves as a place to display his artwork, having already filled the walls in his own apartment. it is also a place to be fed, as laura and tara are always preparing elaborate meals that rarely work properly. it may take hours, and it may taste horrible, but it's free food, and it usually looks good, which is something. for laura, it's just outside her work, and a place to store her day's work - her boy is tragically allergic to pollen, and tara has heroically agreed to let laura use her apartment as a place to keep her cuttings and floral arrangements when they can't be kept at the store any longer. these free decorations from her two best friends give the apartment a permanently upbeat and trendy feel, with the most modern artworks in both fields constantly being bestowed upon it. it also becomes a sort of headquarters for the friends, who usually end up having most meals together, with a varying assortment of boyfriends dropping in from time to time. both friends have keys, just as she has keys to both of their apartments.

it's a cold evening, and the draughty spacious apartment would be bordering on unbearable if it weren't for a small, low wooden table on wheels, that is covered with exactly 100 tea candles, all lit. this portable 'table of fire' serves as a cheap way of heating the apartment, as it effectively warms the area around it, and fills the open spaces with a pleasant, smoky scent. shadows dance on the concrete walls as the three friends and the boy (now seated on the floor next to them, wrapped cosily in a doona) discuss this and that, gesturing enthusiastically as stories are told. the boy gets up and wanders into the kitchen, returning a while later with four half-hearted attempts at the white chocolate mocha frappuccinos they are all addicted to, which he places carefully in a perfect square on the floor. tara chooses hers first, then laura, then niki, then he takes the last, a pre-determined order based on some sort of algorithm regarding who's house it is, who made it, and lord knows what else. it's complicated, but it works, and the coffees are soon gone.

as it gets late, the girls find themselves in the kitchen investigating their new groceries, and noisily begin planning dinner. the boys wander up to the mezzanine and perch on the edge of the floor, feet dangling over the rest of the apartment, feeling vaguely chauvanistic with the girls preparing dinner and them sitting and talking, but knowing that if they tried to intervene on what tara and laura referred to as their 'art', they would be batted away with great indignance. the music is turned up from the kitchen, and there is much giggling and exclamations of 'oh dear', which suggests that the meal will be as.. creative.. as usual. more than an hour later, they are joined by the girls, who are holding a huge tray of poptarts, and looking sheepish. the boys know better than to comment, and devour the poptarts with some relief that they can go another day without contracting food poisoning.

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