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Speaking of Things

One Time DSLR

Today, it is eight years since she touched me. Eight years since that wondrous time I had with her in Italy- in sunny Bologna and dreamy Venice and blissful Florence. Eight years since I have been out of this dingy corner of her house. Eight long years of waiting for that touch that never comes. My fate is like that of my many friends after all. I am a one time DSLR, single use.

I am old and tired, anyway. Maybe even outdated. She perhaps has a younger model now who clicks better pictures of her. Makes her happier. Probably with him, she has already been to Rio or even Paris…

My time has come. I can sense it. The dark claws of death are creeping on me to take my light away. This dust and humidity is suffocating my insides. No more shutters and flashes and lights and colours…

Wait, something just happened. What’s this. Did someone just touch me? Yes! It’s her. Oh oh, she is picking me up. My eyes are opening…

A baby! There is a new toddler in the house! And you know what that means, don’t you?

Bye bye death, we will meet again another day. I have plenty of work now.

– One time DSLR no more.

Categories
Speaking of Things

Dusty Old Book In The Bookshelf

Why do you look so sad, new one? He loved you, he held your every word sacred, he could not stop gushing about you, he couldn’t put you down until that last page…

Ohh I see. You are now one of us. Relegated to the dusty shelves where no one is ever touched again, let alone be swooned over. 

Today, it has been fifteen years since he held me. He hasn’t thought about my words that had once nourished his soul. He doesn’t even remember my name.

And now that you have found your place here, alongside all our dusty little friends, you are now just a part of this collective display he will show off.

But let me tell you a little secret.

Before he put you in here, you have seeped into his very being and changed him forever. Just like the rest of us. All of us make him.

We may get old and dusty and die here, little friend. But in him, we will always be alive and shining.

-Dusty old book in the bookshelf