Loïc van Laarhoven

The unrecognised object

Tucked away amidst the overgrown foliage of an abandoned park, there sits a forlorn bench, a relic of times long past. Its weathered appearance tells a tale of neglect and indifference, each crack and splinter bearing witness to years of wear and tear.


The bench, once a proud piece of outdoor furniture, now slumps dejectedly, its wooden frame sagging under the weight of its own decrepitude. The once vibrant paint has long since peeled away, leaving behind a patchwork of faded colors that blend seamlessly into the surrounding landscape.


Carved into its arms are faint remnants of intricate patterns, obscured by layers of grime and moss. Nature, it seems, has claimed this bench as its own, weaving tendrils of greenery around its legs and across its surface, as if to conceal its sorry state from the world.


Approaching this bench is a gamble, a game of chance with no clear winner. Sitting upon its weather-beaten planks is an invitation to discomfort, as rough wood and protruding splinters threaten to mar any semblance of relaxation. The creaks and groans emitted with each shift in weight serve as a somber reminder of the bench's fragility, a symphony of decay that echoes through the silent park.


Despite its dilapidated appearance, there is a certain melancholic beauty to be found in this forgotten relic. It stands as a testament to the passage of time, a silent witness to the ebb and flow of life in all its transient glory. Yet, for all its poetic allure, this bench remains nothing more than a sad reminder of what once was—a relic of a bygone era, left to wither away in obscurity.


Envoyé: 08:59 Mon, 25 March 2024 by : Loïc van Laarhoven age : 16