If Writing is Art, Art does not need to make sense, does this story qualify as Art? |
Let me tell you about the Red Room. It is a rather small room on the fourteenth floor of a twelve storey building. It is the size of a hockey arena and painted light blue up to about half-way, and then light green to the ceiling. There is a counter on the south-side wall, with three coffee makers on it. In the coffee makers is hot green tea. In the middle of the Red Room is a brown leather sofa, and there are four cats walking around. Three brown cats, two grey cats, and a dog. The sofa is facing the coffee counter on the west wall, and behind the sofa is a 32-inch LCD TV. The TV is flashing random pictures of segments from various TV programs from the 1950's. There is a long hallway off of the Red Room with a closet on one side and a washroom on the other. The closet is empty. The washroom has no toilet. Simon walked into the Red Room only to find one of the white cats curled up on the black leather sofa. He walked over to one of the coffee makers and poured himself a tea. He sat on the sofa and started to enjoy the comedy film showing on the TV. One of the cats approached him and began to purr. There was a knock from the door, and the door began to creep open. A tall, blonde lady walked in. She also poured herself a tea. She then sat next to Steve, who then turned to her and said "Who are you?" The lady said, "Who are you?", then continued to sip her tea. Steve then got off of the sofa and continued down the hall to the closet. As he opened the closet door, a box almost fell on him. "I need to clean out this closet", he said quietly to himself. He closed the door, disgusted that he could not find what he was looking for, and proceeded back to the chair. As he sat, there was a knock at the door. The door creeped open and a tall, blonde lady walked in. She poured herself a tea. "Who are you?", she said. "Who are you", he said. They both turned away and began to sip their teas. |