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The buzz of the vacuum cleaner fills my ears, a familiar vibration that gives me a strange feeling of peace. Today is deep cleaning day and I, armed with my trusty appliance, am preparing to do battle with the dust and residues of the week. I start with the floor, a stretch of wooden tiles that, despite my daily efforts, always seem to attract every crumb and speck of dirt. I vacuum with slow and precise movements, by the whirlwind of dust that disappears into its belly. I like to imagine that each pass is a brush stroke on a canvas, and that I am creating a work of art made of cleanliness and order. Then I come to the carpet, a soft and thick Persian in pale colors. Here the challenge becomes more demanding: its intricate fibers seem to hold the dust with tenacity. But I do not give up. I select the appropriate brush and insist carefully on every centimeter, until I see the original colors re-emerge, bright and vivid. While I work, my mind empties itself of thoughts and worries.
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