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To stumble upon something completely new, and yet it only shows things from a generation gone by is fascinating to me. You’re not the first to come here, but you're the first to experience it in this state, and with this modern perspective. Even if others watch over this place, chances are that they’ve seen its eras. It becomes second nature to them to expect change, and to not want change at all. The peeling wallpaper now sits as a reminder of cigarette smoke and small hands, images of life that were thought to be simpler but in reality, they only wish to be 8 again.
I suppose my own home reminds me of this, though anyone’s childhood home could. Everything revolves around home,your mind,your body,and your perspective. All of it changes and yet, it's still you.
To wander into an old antique shop on a rainy afternoon is to travel to a different world. A world where change is everywhere but it all stays the same . To see life in mundane objects used by people who’ve long left is fascinating. Clothes worn by children who can now sell it to you, pocket watches that have ticked for a century or two, silverware used in meals you’ll never experience, and the feeling as you press the yellowed buttons of things thought to be so modern. Whatever you find has a story as mundane as life, and yet here it sits, in your small hands, waiting to fulfill its purpose once more.
To find an old child’s toy in this world, is to stumble upon a poppy in a field of dandelions.
There’s something beautiful about it. It was simply made to make someone smile. Their mechanical hearts beat with a precise love as they do what they’ve always done. I made a poem about this a while back, I’ll leave it here to better illustrate my idea:
Look at me.
My movements are performance.
My smile is latex
And yet,
I am filled with Love
I am filled with your Love
The Love of eyes that have seen the world
The Love of eyes who glow with potential
As I rot
As I rip
I hope I did all I wanted,
Which was to bring a smile
A bit of laughter
And to give you all my Love.
They were only there to make someone happy, to make someone feel loved.
The ones who held onto them, can still fit all the joy they bring into their now wrinkled hands. Maybe my fascination comes from a place of inexperience, or maybe too much experience, but maybe it is truly interesting how the ones who never let life lead them are the ones who never change.
They’re stuck in a world of open signs and spare dimes, pawning off objects of the ones who did let go of fleeting moments and ideas.
Maybe there's a soreness in their hearts when they see a new face enter their world, a face shaped by times that would never conform to the peeling wallpaper, ticking pocket watches, and dusty ashtrays. There's an exchange of greetings and goods, but also an exchange of perspectives. One that never left this world, and One that was never born into this world.
That’s why I love these worlds.
To wander through halls that never expected to last this long, to feel the presence of minds who’ve long since changed.
It’s like moldy bread, stagnant, old and yet full of life. The one who left it unattended, has let new experiences take hold, and a new life form.
To be loved is to change, grow and let ourselves exist unattended from how things ‘should be’ , if we can accept that, we will experience things we could’ve never imagined.
If we can accept the world was never simple, we can see all the beautiful details. Maybe we can even find something new to appreciate, in something so old.