{"sf1_id":1558066,"sf2_id":"3egqkdMn","title":"A walk at the side of the ditch","author":"Jubatian","words":389,"posted_at":"2020-03-14T13:30:00.000Z","tags":["Abstract","Death","Forest","Garbage","Nature","abandoned","toy"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1558066-a-walk-at-the-side-of-the-ditch","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/3egqkdMn","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/11/3a/113ad6d3-8c9f-4d61-8a75-c2a495b92b01","description":"(2017)\nRandom impulses from some piles of garbage one might find all the time in the woods near cities.","content":"A walk at the side of the ditch  \n  \n  \nDeep in the woods at the edge of the town there is a ditch. A small groove,  \nnothing spectacular, following the winding path leading uphill.  \n  \nYou rarely see it. It is overgrown by thick undergrowth, repelling thorny  \nbushes to deter the occasional hiker. However, if you got across, you could  \nfind all sorts of things there.  \n  \nThings like an old couch with torn up covers, lumps of its spongy fillings  \nslowly spreading away towards a pile of broken tiles, the frame of a  \ntelevision, a little deeper you might even find what was within that frame,  \nmaybe even its remote.  \n  \nOnly the birds croak, only an occasional car on a nearby road, otherwise it is  \nall silent. A tiny spot of oblivion, where even time stopped to slowly melt  \nand rot away.  \n  \nThen there are the eyes. A mangled, broken teddy bear looking up on you, an  \narm missing, with those cute black pearls of eyes, the kind of memory you had  \nnever seen since you were young, possibly decades ago.  \n  \nWhere did it came from?  \n  \nWhy it was there, here where sludgy water pours down in the rain, in this  \nforgotten ditch? Who had it long long ago?  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; A child, a cradle, the eyes, those eyes of the teddy bear, placed beside her  \nto calm her, a peaceful little boat sailing down the river of time, growing up  \nall in a swirl, out in the garden on a swing, cuddling her old teddy bear...  \n  \nWhen these memories are to be gone?  \n  \nWhen one gets too old, when it happens, when someone takes it, and hurls it  \nmercilessly away? Whose memory was it?  \n  \nPictures fading away. You walk and keep walking there, tackling the obstacles,  \nfallen branches and entire trees, and it all keeps coming. A ceramic vase  \ndecorated with flowers, a small steel pot rusting away, a figure of a child  \nkicking a football still visible on it, a baby doll sleeping, that kind which  \nwould close its eyes when laid on her bed. Now covered in dirt and ragged  \nclothes she sleeps in her garden of weeds, slowly becoming one with nature,  \nlong forgotten memories crumbling apart...  \n  \nAnd you?  \n  \nEveryone?  \n  \nWhat is to be, where will we end up, on the side of a ditch when everyone  \ndies?  \n  \n\n"}