Has it ever struck you as odd that we keep rugs beneath our feet? One might believe this to be because they seem more proper resting there on the floor rather than held up against the force of gravity. If one were to take this position however, one would be – as is to be expected in these unfortunate times – plainly mistaken. Rug shops offer an obvious counterexample. It isn’t the least bit concerning, not even to the most easily disturbed individuals, to walk into a rug shop and see rugs on a number of elevated surfaces. Conceding to this point, the rational mind should come to an understanding that rugs are deeply misunderstood, despite their seeming simplicity. The mind which is not only rational but also curious, of which there are so few, would be eager to follow me into an examination of their true character.
We’ve all at some point had the desire to inhabit a space with a tasteful bare floor made of some hardy material. Limestone, maybe. But the rug, it plays an important function in a home. This weighs on me. It is plain that we have too few animals close to us. Consider the numerous protections which machinic society places between us and the discontents arising from this lack. Cars for one, are children of bugs. And moreover, they have faces on their front and back and exhaust themselves. Clearly they are of a stink bug nature. Is it not apparent why the thought of a rugless home is disturbing? We rest on keeping things with animal features. If not eyes, then fur. Walking on a rug is a tender declaration of victory. We think “you are beneath me, animal,” but at the same time we feel some regret at this state of affairs. We keep our floorbound friends clean and are rewarded with the comfort of simulated mutual affection.
This brings me to my walk. It was a long walk, and on very poor ground. I did not think most of the time. The callouses, on my big toes in particular, picked up bits of concrete. This I found disturbing. I have never been able to move automatically in the way most people seem to. It takes great effort to pay attention to anything besides the actuation of my muscles, the pumping of my heart below my ears, and the salt of sweat reddening the skin on my neck. As long as I move in this manner, I cannot place myself into memory. On this day, without me fully understanding why, the walking stopped. Suspended there, I must have looked a bit like a soldier. The breeze felt cold on my wet eyes as they looked over the sidewalk that trailed into the distance. My back was damp and my jaw was slack. Still without moving, I could see out of the corner of my right eye that I had just passed the awning of a rug and furniture shop, known to carry luxurious rugs. I remembered the conclusion I had come to earlier, about the unavoidability of purchasing a rug.
I had entered the store without noticing. The shopkeep was a kind looking old man. He assured me that he only sold old rugs , and that new rugs were no good. He had a funny felt hat with gold thread and no tassel. I thought that he should have a tassel, because it would suit his complexion. Somewhere in the middle of him explaining to me the great merits of his most elegant rugs, I remembered that, as is usually the case, I had very little money to my name. Undeterred, I requested that he show me his cheapest rug. The man’s expression soured. I knew that he was only unhappy because he had been interrupted.
The shopkeep disappeared into the rugs for a while. There was no breeze in the store, which left room for me to feel the suffocating silence. It seemed as if in the shop one could do anything and get away with it. I dreamt up fantasies of the old man having seized the opportunity for a beach getaway or roadtrip in between his presumably rummaging. There was an ornate chair marked simply “heirloom.” I might have sat in it if the old man hadn’t emerged just a moment later. Beneath his tassleless hat he was wearing a serious look and was clumsily handling two objects which I couldn’t quite make out in the dim light. I hadn’t noticed that it had gotten dark out. It had been bright earlier. It’s possible that it was only dim inside the store, the light blocked out by the rugs. I was startled to hear the man’s voice, which did not break so much as rest on top of the silence that filled the store. “This is my cheapest rug.” He dropped something large at my feet with one hand and handed me a hefty, gleaming pair of shears with the other.
As I moved in to look at the rug he had brought me, he quickly shook my hand and retreated. Without having paid a cent, I dragged my prize outside and stumbled home, falling soundly asleep on my mattress for which I had not yet purchased a frame.
The dreams that came to me that night were like many dreams that I had had before. It happens often in my sleep that I encounter a particular large gray surface. It appears very tall but it is actually flat. It is only possible to tell this because it is possible to walk on top of it without changing in elevation. Those who I consider to be my friends have seen it in their dreams too. We feel it to be an auspicious sign. One time, while in Bangkok for a wedding, I spoke with a man on the train who had also seen it in the night.
In the morning I woke with a start, the pair of shears that the rug man had given me clasped tightly to my chest. They reminded me of a pair of legs, particularly of the ballerinas I would watch as a child on cable. Next to my bed was the rug I had purchased. It was clear in the daylight that the rug was a sheep’s carcass, unbutchered and with a coat full of lively curls. Such a thing is difficult to explain. One might have expected this to be an alarming sight, but I was not alarmed. I knew looking into its strange eyes that the sheep would be as good a rug as any more conventional textile. Indeed, it would be better. I put my feet up on the sheep and laid back, more pleased with myself at that moment than I had ever been before.