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Deleted member 1465
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- Jul 31, 2018
- 6,914
I had a bottle of wine tonight, because...fuckit.
I sat looking at my little monument to the forgotten.
It was never meant to be such, it was just a paving slab's area of spare stone slabs, bricks, tiles and river stones, all collected from the neighbourhood with nowhere else to go.
So they all got placed together. A weird juxta position of cultural items and ancient geology, mixed in with all the odd tat I've found on my scavenging travels.
Zoom in and have a look. Forgotten items, lost and discarded as rubbish in back streets. Did they once have a story, then were cast out and abandoned? Maybe I identify with that thought, but...
It's also my OCD. Order out of chaos. Look at that pile of eclectic rubbish. It's all aligned to within an inch of its life. Let's be more accurate, to a millimetre. Everything has it's place and some things just want, just scream, to be in a specific place.
And there they are, all together. A little monument to forgotten items, lost, abandoned. A story behind every item.
All of them made me smile when I was roaming the back streets looking for inspiration in other people's rubbish, so I picked them up.
Everyone else has forgotten, but I haven't, because I'm drunk, and when I'm drunk I remember, even if it's someone else's memory.
Nothing is ever forgotten.
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