something old something blue
Moth balls and plastic
“Chop sticks” chopped out on the cranky piano
Green shopping baskets not so clean
A mother with her irritated baby in the push car
The student paging the vintage…
My favourite shop called ‘Spit’. Their junk becomes my treasure. All about giving new life, a second chance, new beginnings.
I always feel at home here and when I saw it on the shelf among the other stuff I knew it will go home with me and it is now leaning on one leg on the window sill in the kitchen ticking heavy. It is old. It is blue the old clock. And I love it. Cost a Euro or something.
The old blue ticker and I, we share the same.
Vintage but beautiful. I’m curious about where it started a day and called it a day, where it ticked out season after season… I have a few stories to tell…
A steady tick-tack, tick-tack – yes, that’s me. My heart still does it – strong and secure tick-tacking through life. Can’t determine for how long but tick-tacking the width and breadth.
Occasionally it loses it a bit. The ticker. Me too. Some days just race on and I keep lagging behind. I have to be wound up and adjusted to remember what it’s all about. The focus, keep going.
The alarm – panic in war time – goes off at times – heart racing – moment of directionlessness – and then refocus. A wake up call… What is my business here?
Leaning heavy to one side because of the one leg – me, leaning heavy to the one side because leaning into Someone who holds my day and the length of my time.
