Dad’s Desk

Even when the human leaves the room, the still life left behind paints a picture of our likes and dislikes, our activities, what we notice or hold dear sometimes. Objects are imbued with life in so far as they were sculpted by us, used by us over time, and given meaning by us.

Now, it is possible that the middle drawer of my father’s desk contains a mishmosh of objects “that have temporarily found a home”. But above level, I rejoice in seeing what he graces his thinking space with.