Satie Home Center
Satie Home Center
The shop is located in a deserted back alley, a few kilometers away from the national highway where the "Bach Home Center" stands. The sign is faded, and for some reason, the letters are written in mirror writing.
"Satie Home Center: You don't have to buy anything, just stay a while."
The shopkeeper, Erik Satie, wears the same gray velvet apron perfectly every day and does not greet customers when they arrive. He stares intently at the blades of a motionless electric fan at the counter.
Screws and nails with no purpose
There are no shelves organized by "size" in this shop. Shopkeeper Satie classifies screws not by their dimensions, but by the "loneliness of their texture" or the "lightness of the sound they make when rolling."
"Shopkeeper, where can I find a nut that fits this screw?"
Satie slowly adjusts his monocle.
"What is the meaning in searching for that? A screw is beautiful enough just by being a screw, rolling there. Forcing something to be tightened is the same as violence against music."
The customer, unable to buy what they came for, buys a "pear-shaped doorknob (though it has no hole)" and goes home instead.
Music for furniture (or the furniture itself)
The highlight of Satie Home Center is not the DIY corner. It is the display area for "chairs just for sitting" and "boards just for placing."
"What is this board used for?"
"It is used for nothing. It is just a board. It is a background. When you sigh in front of this board, the board is complete."
He calls the noise of the power tools in the shop an "orchestra." He plays the same chord 840 times on an old piano, matching the grinding sound of a sander.
Fading colors
In the gardening corner at the back, there are no flashy flowers at all. Only cacti that have lost their color and plain mosses with names unknown are placed there.
Satie mutters while watering them with a watering can.
"Flowers assert themselves too much by blooming in splendor. I love those modest colors at the moment they are withering away."
When he gives them the fertilizer he developed himself, called "Cold Fragments," the plants stop growing and remain frozen in that exact shape.
The white silence after closing
Even when closing time arrives, he does not say "We are closed." He simply dims the shop's lights one level at a time, so slowly that no one notices.
He does not close out the register or count the sales—which are mixed with buttons and seashells—but instead sleeps with his head resting on the counter.
"…Tomorrow, I shall stock more transparent nails."
The next morning, there is a new sign at the entrance.
"The shopkeeper is out today. However, the shopkeeper's shadow has been left behind the register, so please feel free to consult with it."
The customers tilt their heads in confusion as they enter the empty shop.