Our blacksmith picked up the mould and studied it. His expressions were not discernible, but the sweat on his forehead highlighted his precision as he poured the molten metal into the mould.
Whilst he worked, many frames, metal shapes – some contorted, some flamboyant – stared at him, acknowledging and appreciating in utter silence.
Our blacksmith, on his way back home, saw a little kid who was standing against a wall along with his friend, wasting time, living.
That little kid whispered something to his friend and they both started following our blacksmith, copying his gait.
A silly game, a random thought, a reason to smile.
Dear reader what does time say?
Time says it is next day.
Every frame, every metal shape was eagerly waiting for our blacksmith. Roller shutter made its habitual noise and our blacksmith entered his workshop, and along with him came his two buddies, those two kids we saw earlier.
Quickly they went and stood next to his grand table, jumping with excitement.
Our blacksmith finally showed them what was now ready in the mould – it was a crane on turtle candlestick holder.
The two kids laughed and so did our blacksmith. He said the crane and the turtle were friends and the kids inquired if he had seen something like that in real.
Our blacksmith nodded and said that when he was their age he went with his father to a lake side and saw a crane standing on a turtle’s back.
Childhood memories capture time that never fades.
- Darkness and Pleonasm
- Agnes Obel and The Narrative
- A Would-Be Pirate Pasha de Roos and the Parkinson’s Law
- Interviewing A Busy Ant