When the places are no longer occupied or transited, dust and a smell of confinement takes hold of them. The same happens to the objects that are there, if any, they seem frozen in time, begging for a little attention.
I never used to go into that room while I lived in that apartment, but that day I was bored and decided to visit it and look at the objects that were there. The floor was wooden and as soon as I stepped on it it creaked a little, then I felt like I was being watched, and as I turned around I came upon four elegant little porcelain dolls.
The room had a bed and a piece of furniture that integrated a chest of drawers with a large mirror. On top of the bed rested some rag dolls, they were quite big and with colorful dresses, I could tell that it had been a long time since anyone had played with them. I lifted them up to look at them, dusted them off a bit and returned them to their inactivity, why didn't the owner take pity on them? She should have given them away, I thought.
On the piece of furniture with the mirror there was someone greeting me shyly, that rabbit seemed to have lost all its mischievousness, also its softness, its fur was rough, sad, but at least it kept its eyes.
Taking pictures of them, immortalizing them, was the only thing I could do for them before saying goodbye, if they had belonged to me I would have given them a happier destiny.
Cuando los lugares dejan de estar ocupados o transitados, el polvo y un olor a encierro se apodera de ellos. Lo mismo ocurre con los objetos que están allí, si los hay, parecen congelados en el tiempo, pidiendo un poco de atención.
No solía entrar a esa habitación mientras viví en ese apartamento, pero ese día estaba aburrida y decidí visitarla y mirar los objetos que estaban allí. El piso era de madera y apenas lo pisé crujió un poco, luego sentí que me observaban, y al girar me topé con cuatro elegantes muñequitas de porcelana.
La habitación tenía una cama y un mueble que integraba un gavetero con un gran espejo. Encima de la cama descansaban unas muñecas de trapo, eran bastante grandes y con vestidos coloridos, se notaba que hacía mucho tiempo que nadie jugaba con ellas. Las alcé para mirarlas, les sacudí un poco el polvo y las devolví a su inactividad, ¿por qué la dueña no se apiadó de ellas? Debió haberlas regalado, pensé.
En el mueble con el espejo había alguien saludándome tímidamente, ese conejo parecía haber perdido toda su picardía, también su suavidad, su pelaje estaba áspero, triste, pero al menos conservaba los ojos.
Tomarles fotos, inmortalizarlos, fue lo único que pude hacer por ellos antes de despedirme, si me hubiesen pertenecido les habría dado un destino más feliz.
All photos are my property / Todas las fotos son de mi propiedad
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