It was nothing more than an ornament at home.This old telephone who sits on a corner.
Yet, I am almost always drawn to it.
Particularly, the mystery of the number on its face.
Whose home did this telephone used to serve?
What kind of people were they?
I always believed that we leave a part of ourselves
on the people we encounter and hold dear.
Could we have the same effect on the things we possessed?
If so, am I mystified by the soul that lent a part of itself to this old telephone,
or am I leaving a part of myself instead...
Yet, I am almost always drawn to it.
Particularly, the mystery of the number on its face.
Whose home did this telephone used to serve?
What kind of people were they?
I always believed that we leave a part of ourselves
on the people we encounter and hold dear.
Could we have the same effect on the things we possessed?
If so, am I mystified by the soul that lent a part of itself to this old telephone,
or am I leaving a part of myself instead...
