My own "Invisible Cities"

RAMONA
Theme: reminiscence, nostalgia

In Ramona, no new memories are created. The memories you hold when you enter are what you experience each day, over and over again, sometimes in a different order, but always with the same feeling. Each new person you meet reminds you of another you had met in the past; each sight, smell or sound recalls another moment, a figure or a fragment or glimmer of another time. You will never again think of the young girl who skips past you down the streets of Ramona, and she will never again think of you. Instead, when she sees you, she will be reminded of the grocer in the next town over, the one with the smiling eyes, who slipped her a piece of candy with a wink as her mother gathered their milk and fruit and turned to leave the store.

If you stay in the city long enough you may have the opportunity to experience another’s memories. In Ramona, memory is traded at every solstice. Twice a year, time stops – just for a moment – and at that moment, an exchange of remembrances occurs. All of a sudden, the friendly grocer’s wink becomes as real to you as it was to the little girl as she gratefully clutched her sugary treat. The unfamiliarity of the moment will be refreshing; though the memory is recycled, it is new to you. The exchange works both ways, however. No longer will your memories be your own. Do you recall that afternoon you spent strolling in the country with your sister last year? The two of you commenting on the crimson hue of the fruit you plucked from the tree that offered you a shady spot to rest and enjoy your peanut butter sandwiches, the ones on wheat bread, crusts sliced off, do you remember that? Of course not. That afternoon is now a fond memory held by the elderly man sitting in his rocker a block away, chuckling as he thinks of the lovely picnic he and his sibling once shared under a cherry tree.

FELICITY
Theme: chasing the unattainable

The city of Felicity is arranged unlike any other. Instead of a standard cluster of neighborhoods, Felicity is shaped like a wavy line, with only one road in the whole city. Main Street, as the inhabitants fittingly call it, is a winding, skinny pathway lined with houses. Walking along the main drag, I wouldn’t have guessed immediately that this town was different than any other. The homes were warmly welcoming, with well-kept lawns and modest exteriors. Children rode brightly colored bikes past me as I strolled, while a dog barked from a healthy green yard where a young woman tended to her vegetable garden, pulling weeds as she wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. Felicity’s sole distinguishing characteristic was her lack of cross streets, a characteristic which itself became unnoticeable after a bit of walking.

I entered Felicity with the intention to only pass through. Though my map was mysteriously torn at the opposite end of Main Street, I had heard that the neighboring city was just beyond the town square, around the last bend in the road. At first I felt I was making good progress through the town; with my long flamingo legs I took lengthy strides. However, it seemed strange to me that at my pace I hadn’t yet reached the town square. Around the next bend, I came across a man peering into his mailbox, hunched over as he rooted through the bills and flyers that spilled out through his fingers. I tapped his shoulder and he turned to me with a friendly smile. When I asked how far it was until I came across town square, he stared back at me, confused for a moment, before he chuckled with realization and shook his head.

“So she’s got you now too,” he replied, and when my only response was a look of pure confusion, he continued, “Felicity, she’s got you now too. You see, there is no town square, there is no city at the end of Main Street. In fact, there is no end of Main Street at all. Once you enter this city, you’re where you’re supposed to be.”

I began to protest, but the man stopped me.

“Don’t you want to be happy?” he asked, to which I answered, “Of course.”

“And is this city not a happy place?”

I couldn’t argue – I had not seen a frown or tear in all my time spent walking.

“Then why would you leave? Everyone chases happiness when they have it at their fingertips, they just do not see it. Happiness is the name for a city in the distance, and if you approach it, it changes. No one ever wants what they could have so easily. But don’t you see? This town is happiness, it’s even in her name.”

‘Felicity,’ I thought to myself. ‘Of course. After all, there is no language without deceit.’

CLAREVOYA
Theme: accepting what you have

In Clarevoya, it is a complete normalcy for one to have six senses. Each inhabitant possesses the standard five: sight, sound, smell, touch and taste. The sixth sense varies however, and is passed down generation through generation, much like blonde hair, or freckles, or a pointed nose.

Some Clarevoyans have the ability to visually sense the emotions around them, however hidden by expression or body language. In their eyes, happiness shoots off of the body like neon rays of light, bouncing off of walls and windows and brightening each object in their path. Gloom appears as a fog, dark and malleable and thick, coating those who feel it and sweeping over anyone near to them. Anger’s form is that of a smoky red gel, sweeping over irate citizens and shrouding them in a cloud of soot and grease.

Other Clarevoyans are able to hear thoughts, and carry on silent conversations with each other, never saying a word that is audible to those who do not possess the sense. Other Clarevoyans tend to avoid their presence, feeling vulnerable and violated by the lack of privacy in their own mind. What they don’t realize (and no one tells them) is that the thought-hearers have an exceptional sense of “regular” hearing as well – anything that is said aloud within the city limits is perfectly discernible to them anyway.

There is one man in Clarevoya with only five senses. At some point in his childhood, it became apparent that he did not possess either his father’s skill of foretelling weather patterns, or his mother’s ability to maneuver perfectly in completely dark areas. Cards and flowers were delivered to their household, sending condolences and mourning this child’s misfortune. In his youth, the boy felt he had been cheated, that he was an unlucky pariah without any special advantage. As he grew older though, he watched his father grow agitated in the days before a particularly harsh storm and he glimpsed the wistful sigh of a thought-hearer who knew she was once again avoided for her ability but that her cerulean hue of sadness was apparent to many Clarevoyans around her. Upon reaching adulthood, the man came to a realization of the blessing hidden beneath his curse – his sixth sense in fact was peace.

APERFICO

Imagine a place that is the epitome of perfection, and that place is Aperfico. A city of absolute bliss, there is never a tear shed in Aperfico, nor is a harsh word ever uttered. Every child is born without an ounce of pain felt by its mother and infants emerge smiling and giggling, not a scream to be heard. All marriages are healthy and happy, and the word “divorce” is an absolutely foreign idea. No one ever feels hunger or sadness, nor do they truly understand the meaning of these concepts.

One day, the city of Aperfico was invaded and left devastated by a group of pillaging travelers. Most houses were left at the mercy of a torch and turned to ashes, destroying all the provisions and possessions left inside and killing many of the city’s residents. With this invasion, the essence of perfection that existed in Aperfico was also destroyed. At once, the citizens felt desperate hunger, emotional agony over their lost companions and belongings, and physical pain from the injuries inflicted by their attackers. It seemed as if true happiness would never be found again.

Eventually the invading vagabonds moved through Aperfico and away from the city’s walls, leaving behind them a site of complete desolation. Without any practice in handling misfortune, the city’s inhabitants had no idea how to react or overcome such a tragedy. The town stayed in a state of chaos until a young girl emerged from a partially sunken ruin of a home and extended her chubby, dirt-caked hand to a woman who sat sobbing on the street outside. In the child’s palm was a half-eaten red apple, dull from the light film of dust that covered its skin. Though it was far from Aperfico’s standard of perfection, the woman thankfully grabbed the apple and devoured it hungrily. At that moment, she realized that nothing she had ever eaten had tasted as delicious and rewarding as the filthy fruit she had just gulped down. It was the first time she had actually felt satisfaction – a sense of gratification stemming from the fulfillment of some absence. And it occurred to her that Aperfico had never been perfect in the first place – nothing in the world she had known could ever compare to her realization of the true perfection that comes from rising from adversity.

Questions:

- The theme that was easiest for me to write about was “reminiscence,” partially because it was my first city that I wrote about, but also because I felt the theme connected to so many thoughts and feelings I’ve experienced lately, especially being in a new, foreign place. I have with me my memories from back home and I’m adding to them so many new memories in a completely new environment.

- I thought each way of writing was harder and easier in its own way. A theme was a good building block from which I could jumpstart my idea, but often I’d find myself straying from the idea and either changing my theme or having to rewrite a section. Writing without a theme was also difficult however, because I didn’t have a specific thread to tie back into until my story was fully developed.

- The most difficult part for me was thinking of different cities. Once I had one, I kept thinking of similar concepts and it was hard for me to branch out and dream up a new one.

- I enjoyed Calvino’s use of language, particularly his descriptive phrases. I love descriptive writing and most of the quotes I picked from his cities were descriptive phrases with interesting and vivid word choice. These were the things I tried to emulate in my own cities.

- As I said, I tried to emulate/borrow a certain element of Calvino’s style, his word choice and descriptive choices, because I felt that they created such vivid mental imagery that really add substance to a written piece.

- I personally took “Invisible Cities” to be a piece of work all pertaining to one city, each story elaborating one of the city’s many complexities. Rome is definitely a very complex city. It combines so many aspects of modernity and antiquity and this adds a really interesting element to the city. In this way, I think Rome is definitely an “Invisible City” as Calvino might describe it.

- I would have chosen “complexity” or “contrast” if I had written about Rome as a whole. Like I said before, Rome has so many conflicting, complex elements and that is what makes it such an interesting remarkable city.