Imagination is (only) so far away…

time-less imagination

Through a window, peers the light of day. Setting it’s sight onto a dust straddled desk. Exaggerated from the congested, yet organised paperwork. Feasting it’s eyes on a raspy atelier. Splinters stand proud, gloating at their self presence. Glowing in the sunlight, scathed wood excepts it’s self as the prime favourite. Not seen by a speckle of dust, but flooded with the unwelcomed guest of light. The work bench of one, young at heart puppeteer. Wrinkles line every corner of his facade as the uninvited light accentuates the depth to which the wrinkles bore. Knowing that the day is young, is much of a past time for the young puppeteer.

Warm with light, the puppeteer, settles down to his daily routine, one that hasn’t changed in decades. Oh to often, there is an unwelcomed guest. In the chilly atelier, lies a beam of glistening warmth, seasonally sharing it’s presence. On the odd occasion, the dust is disturbed with a breeze and drop of moisture. The availability of buckets in this instance, depicts the cleanliness of the dust.

Plonking a hand made, oven glazed mug into the beam of light, a stream of steam appears. Making it’s way aloft, drifting left and right, as if exempt from gravity. Piercing it’s way through the beam, and into the abyss, a spicy yet warm scent enters the room. Appearing from nowhere, the crisp scent kicks and bights the back of your nose, curiosity floods the mind as to what partners the spicy yet warm scent, now sharing the gloating glory of a scathed warm, chilly atelier.

Sometimes it’s hard to imagine…


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