Ok ok,
I once wrote a story about a birth of a doll. It was a doll with black round eyes made of tattered turmeric material, warming with a fine smile to melt even the most bleakest of hearts. In the story it disappeared in a bubble along with the dust infested white teddy in the store-room.
The thing is that this story actually disappeared from my computer, after i forgot to do a back-up and reformatted my computer a while back. The way it was written was completed unplanned. All I did was write it without thinking too much of it, and now when i try to recall it it’s too hard, because I’m simply trying too hard.
I am also romanticizing about it, thinking that it was some sort of a great piece of writing or something, which it probably wasn’t. But this is what happens when you lose something. It becomes immortalized.
I am trying to figure out what happens to us when something becomes distant because it stops existing in our world. Is it really non-existent or does it exist somewhere in this other world that we are incapable of seeing.
I now remember a friend once telling me that there must be a whole world full of lost socks, just one sock each, no pairs, but they all unite somehow. She said it as a joke, and I understand this as a joke too, but what if there was a world of lost things, all the lost stories and lost socks.
We live our lives consciously or for some unconsciously thinking of a time when we might one day die. But after that, after death, can we perhaps think about the time we lived?
7-7-7
Cheers
ps: I am hunting for a socks seller who sells one piece socks.
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