ABANDONMENT

 27/10/2024

What shall I write? My imagination is recessing. Maybe. I feel like an author but without ideas. What shall I write? Maybe I’ll write about an abandoned car.

A car. Left at the vacant car park. Maybe abandoned, maybe broke up, maybe it has a complex story which we can’t think of. We can only tell that it’s not being used anymore. The car stopped resisting the intertwined, which are now dead, bushes, long ago. The bush is not alone in there but, it has an acquaintance called moss. Moss and bush, different names same purpose. To grow on deserted places, places once were filed with people or maybe places which haven’t even welcomed a single soul on the soil. Rust is also there doing its one and only job, feeding on the metal found by men, extracted and processed by men. What could the rust do about it, it’s in its nature- when something is not used, rust comes in to finish the job. It’s the humanities false enemy. We deem rust as a bad thing, we try to produce metal as good as possible so it won’t rust, we try to remove rust from our dead tools. Us, humanity cannot accept that there is an end to everything yet we choose to live in delusion and try to continue with that delusion as much as we can and brainwash, manipulate people into thinking that this inevitable end can be changed with a totally opposite course but in the end, rust wins. Rust, bushes, moss, leaves- eventually everything dies at some place. Just like this car. Who drove that car, who produced it, who bought it first, who used it lastly- these questions doesn’t mean anything. The car is there, lying there, once calling for help but now in his death parade along with its already dead or dying friends. Did it have time to say goodbye to his owner or did he hated his owner? Meaningless questions. Who cares about these questions- crows. They spend their life talking behind others, such birds who are just born to die, live a life as meaningless as possible. But rust sees the truth. The moss and bushes and leaves see it as well. They don’t care about the shit talking crows as they are the inevitable end to that cars life. They are wise. Wiser than any human being. They come silently, do their job and leave- with marks so that some people may learn from their mistakes and learn what their so called life finishes with. Leaves approach the situation differently and they want to cover up the last message from rust and moss. They don’t agree with messages; they think that someone has to earn thinking in a such distinctive way. A person who achieves thoughts gets the reward of the portraits left by rust and moss. Soil. Soil that feeds an entire planet also has a final day on here. We are going to become one of those cars one day. Who were we, who raised us, what job did we do- all which have no meaning after we take our very last breath. We die twice. Once, when we take our last breath and second when we get mentioned one last time before our name being forgotten and buried in the soil- the soil that’s going to eventually die swell. We are just like that car, once shiny and bright and almighty but in the end, a piece of scrap that rots away which nobody pays attention to. 

From factories to be used; to soil to be abandoned.