Some days I think about the hollow spaces that people leave behind
How a part of their self gets entangled with these daily objects and insignificant corners
Probably, it’s a different kind of self-preservation — one that attaches itself to random objects and sometimes even people
The objects bemoan the loss of their owner
and the people lament the strange, inexplicable emptiness
I, for one, can’t get over that chair.
PS. Most of us struggle with the memories of lost loved ones and how ordinary day-to-day objects, such as a chair, can act as a trigger to a plethora of emotions and memories. These everyday things hold an indexical relationship to the presence of the loved ones, much like a photograph, which seems more explicit.
I wrote “The Chair” to acknowledge these unattended feelings.
