“A room is not a person,”
said the voice.
Opening the door to find no one there,
but
the room was filled
with photographs of
faces, quilts and crocheted afghans,
boxes of clean books about cooking,
clothes bursting from the closet,
closing the door against the effort
of the crooked frame
and the stuck handle
decidedly,
the voice was right.
The voice was correct, when the one who used or made the stuff is gone the stuff just becomes stuff for someone else to pick up and use.
ReplyDeleteI am not a great believer in stuff myself so the room will be fairly empty.
of course the voice was right...with people you cant close the door when you want...at least not always...
ReplyDeleteah yes, there's always the "stuff" - rolls of wire, planks of wood, rusty cans of mysterious chemicals, oils, paints, powders, evil smelling goo, and damp cardboard boxes full to the brim with moldy books or many sizes of hacksaw blades, nails, screws, nuts, bolts, and also the jars, the trays, the wooden boxes containing what? dead spiders, dust, grime, dirty rags, and all the other "stuff". What on earth went on down there day after day ...
ReplyDeleteyes
ReplyDeleteand no.
somehow it seems our energy touches and transmutates even the inanimate.
i hope this is not where your sadness lies. or if it does, that first there was great happiness.
xo
erin