obsessions ∴ abandoned things :: one

∴

there is an inexplicable, almost whimsical connection between myself and abandoned things - sometimes abandoned people, too.

occasionally, i feel like my role on earth is to salvage the unwanted, the useless. to be correct, what is mainly considered unwanted and useless by the common and the normal.

i must say i have adopted this role wholeheartedly, incorporating it in my general sense of quirkiness. i couldn't, however, call myself a hoarder as hoarding implies some kind of compulsive disorder or need. i am just a collector of the unwanted by choice, projecting a part of me in what i salvage .

so today, instead of shimmering in tears, i talked myself into taking a long walk. i showered and polished and hit the road. and just 50 metres down the street from my place, my trained eye caught these two beauties resting on the pavement, by the empty bin, patiently waiting to be rescued.

can't really articulate the sensation of almost hearing them talking to me, asking me to take them home; and, so i did. i armored myself with my usual determination and carried them in my arms, just like babies. first to the lobby and then up to the 3rd floor.

i sat them comfortably on the carpet and had my time with them; i touched and sniffed them, and discovered their tiny scars and wounds. finally, i sat on them and i instantly felt their miraculous gratefulness; it was clear that they were rewarding me with a warm and comfy armchair hug.