Destroy what you love

Tags

calvary table, dustbin, fade, forgotten, Photograph, resting place, those memories

A writing exercise. Describe something you love decaying, little by little. It’s supposed to help in Setting description. Special thanks for helping me out with the technical matters to:

Nadja

A corner. A dusty and forgotten table corner was now the resting place of that which once had been. Were it a black and white film picture, the sun would have to exert so as to waste the silver and yellow out the black on it and dim away its white. A good film picture can last even three hundred years if kept properly. But in the end time wastes everything. It turns iron to dust, how much more can it do to memories and care!

There was no silver in that particular picture. Even a polaroid would do those memories more justice; but that was not the case. It was just an old inkjet printing of a three-megapixel shot, taken back in the day when three megapixels were that big deal. Now one has more megapixels for photos, and new subjects.

The sun had barely been challenged by the piece of fancy-for-a-printed-picture  glowing paper covered with disposable CMYK ink. And not even the harmless glass window was there to guard it from the sunbeams. It was usually left opened and they were free to come in.

First they took away the magenta, and even before they were done with the first color, they started doing away with yellow. The others might well just be a matter of time. The gloom of the paper was too being washed away – stolen – by the dew and the dust. One would gently caress and soften the foil, while the other would come later and stick to it forever.

There it laid; deprived of its colors, little by little, and also gradually losing its gloom. Little coffee chickenpox spread all over did add up to its illness, and a somewhat big mug-stain scar  carelessly painted that picture of abandonment. No merciful hand was there to end the longing of those opaque eyes and blueish yellow smiles for redemption. No dustbin to bury at long last a bygone memory. Only a calvary table corner by an opened window. And time; gentle, inexorable, merciless.