The Inkwell, the Mirror and the Globe
I can’t remember who gave the inkwell to my father. Turns out the symbols at the front are masonic. I believe it is quite old. Someone must have used it once. I like to imagine that person dipping their pen into the ink, then drawing beautiful lines in their notebook. The mirror, on the other hand, has a different history. My father found it on his brother’s rubbish bin. It was in a bad shape. To my mother’s horror, he took it home. It was full of worms and my mom says they had a party in our living room. It took my father months to clean it, but now it is really beautiful. Except that it adds at least five kilos, or so we have always told ourselves. My father loved flea markets. You never know what you will find there, he used to say. He bought a globe once. Apparently that was quite old too. It showed the world as it had been before the world wars. I don’t know where the globe is now, I haven’t seen it for a while.
GloPoWriMo Day 19 - a "walking archive"
That's an effective and lingering ending, leaving the reader with the image of the old globe being lost.
ReplyDeleteThank you. I realised it wasn't in any of the pictures and then I wasn't quite sure where it was and that's how that ending came to be ;)
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