Shutter Sisters

inanimate

By

Nest offerings, untouched.

I blink once and they squirm. I blink again and they’re weeping, then again and they’re metaphor, then again and they’re a collection of minute particles and who’s to say they’re not looking back at me?

It’s seven minutes to midnight. It’s acceptable to be either asleep or pushing an elephant of a deadline up the stairs but I’m here with you contemplating how it’s possible for yarn to hold a twist and saying isn’t that something, when you see a story where you might otherwise not?

And you might cock your head just that way, or furrow your brow and say yes, isn’t that something and you might smile and right there, you and me together have generated electricity, an addictive current as real and as humming as red.

I blink one more time and they’re twists that wait to be useful. A photo of the pact of readiness.

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This first Monday, show me something inanimate that speaks to you. Or perhaps suggest your local Shady Acres, or a stronger drink. Or a weaker one.

Comments

  1. http://www.flickr.com/photos/jodyangel/3167742989/\

    This violin. Very inanimated unless I pick it up. This violin has been mine since the 60s. So when I touch it I remember how it felt to be 13. How it felt to stand up in front of people and play my heart out. This violin has so many memorys attached to it. Its inanimate but its full of life. Thanks for this great subject =)

  35. Oh, so many things… Mainly the things that were just left there. I am a bit of an order maniac, or just a very neat with my working and living environment. So, I just love when I dfind things that were left there, and I didn’t notice them before. On one hand, they are releasing a bit of my organizing anxiety. On the other hand, I feel like they were speaking to me, telling me their story, or the story of something that happened.
    http://flickr.com/photos/juliealvarez/3160052085/