This morning I was pacing our flat, searching for something I could not find. She told me it was probably “otherwhere.” Such a fantastic word.
The idea of “otherwhere” reminded me of a story I started seven years ago that I will probably never finish. It’s about an elderly woman who walks to the museum each afternoon to contemplate a painting of the Matterhorn disaster. Returning home one day, she sees a flyer taped to a lamppost with a photocopied image of her face. It says she’s gone missing, and there’s a $36,900 reward. The bottom of the page is cut into strips with the telephone number, just like any homemade flyer for guitar lessons or pet grooming. Three strips have been torn off.
If anyone wants to finish that story, please do. Otherwise it will remain otherwhere.
