Cellar Acquaintances
Most chose to run away, to remain in the bare minimum, sounding distant and eerie in one’s own time.
Published in
Nov 12, 2023
The old cross the road, immured in their web of silence.
Complying with destiny’s unrelenting fingers, and provided by the ailing health, they cross in utter discreet.
While some step into the vaults — of the underworld and youth, arranging draperies and cushions to luxuriate in pieces of fragmented nostalgic memories, others want the trap-doors shut and the carpet rolled away: lost opportunities is what they see.
Some mediocrely cultivate gifts of assiduity and forbearance; others, overweight and embarrassed, swear an oath to never reveal their presence any more than what disclosed by their fatigued facial lines.
In secrecy they fade away.
