Our survival instincts are often compromised
by our denial of the imminent danger. A
pair of amoral people were living above my studio, and yet I chose to be blind
to the risk. Maybe I was too scared to
confront the truth and yet foolishly refused to acknowledge the defeat by
moving out. As much as it sounds like
‘Victims bashing’, I feel victims, unless children, may be partially
responsible for the tragedies, judging from my own behavior.
But in my defense, the noise of their
washing machine was weakening me. I was
puzzled as to why it should have oppressed my chest (technically 'breast', but I felt the pressure deeper inside). It turned out that the washing machines emit
infrasounds, otherwise known as a slower killer that triggers depression in the
long run. The noise was amplified by
their tile floor and insulation material was difficult to apply on my centuries
old uneven ceiling lined with woods. Like the title says, it is the true horror
story in Paris.
Normal people wash once per day or every
other days, so the infrasound would not cause damage, but Leila and her fiancé were running their washing machine virtually non-stop. I started to drop things for my hands were
shaking. How could the two upstairs be
not affected by the noise? I frantically
searched for an answer and it seems if you drink a lot, you are less likely to
be affected by the infrasound/low frequencies noise. The wine is cheap in Paris so I tried this
solution. The oppressive feeling in my
chest subsided to my delight. No wonder
the Parisians do not seem to be affected by the infrasound that passes through
the thin walls. (Incidentally, the high
frequency noise do not penetrate solid object like walls) Maybe Leila and her fiancé drank a lot? Yes and no, as I was about to find out.
One afternoon I saw Leila’s fiancé, again
by the window on the staircase, but he did not notice me. He was frantically banging the window grid
with something. The rhythm reminded me
of the other night when he was banging his floor/my ceiling. There was no usual smirk on his face, and I
sensed that his mind was absent. It
slowly dawned on me that while Leila’s action stemmed from her desire to hurt
others, he may have been driven by another thing. I was never a cigarette smoker and drank
light but I had read about the other substances that affected our nerves. To be continued.
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