Old collection
It's always both joyable and scary looking at old collection.
A tribe in Africa put a wooden statue of their old chief next to his grave, And the statue starts to wear year by year, that goes with his memory around his people. And when the statue is completely unrecognizable, it's the time his people forget him.
I feel this little tale is poetic. Not because it shows the power of time, but it shows the harmony between memory and time. The two are not fighting, they just quietly follow each other.
When i say this specimen carries this and that memory, it's a typical nostalgia. When I say this specimen follows his /her time, it's a metamorphosis of perception.
This also applies to people and other passing-by around you. But when pinned on a clean background, a stage is set, and drama is just there observable.
Enjoying dancing, my love.
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