Pieces...

a wooden chair stood on the side of a dusty lane...watching the children prance by...ignored... unseen... unknown... this chair was unique cos very little of its original wood remained intact... every part of it had been repaired and put together till it looked more like an abstract piece of art... different types of wood... different colours... different textures... even the material used to hold it together varied from nails to strings to wires...
i looked at it and the first thought that occured to me was that it was pretty much a symbol of who we are... so much gets added on... so much gets fixed and patched up along the way that we are hardly what we began with...
i was instantly drawn to to... sat at a respectable distance and sketched it out... could not get myself to go and sit on it... no way...
i felt i could understand it... we are pretty much like the chair... our pieces held together by people... by memories... just puzzles... made up of pieces that don't always fit...

there was a spirit of survial here... there was something here that i wanted... there was a dignity inspite of the wounds... a pride in just being...