the present tense

Abandoned objects tell stories that we rarely listen to. Their origins, the metal they’re made of, the crafted wood, the plastic that once seemed everlasting. These objects are often left behind, abandoned by those who once gave them purpose. People take their old things to the curb—old furniture, broken appliances, books that never get opened anymore, a barbecue grill that once hosted weekend gathering, a lawnmower used by a retired man who no longer take care to his garden, an old mattress that a young couple does not need after upgrading their bed, and other discarded trinkets. And there, on the sidewalk, these objects wait, alone and voiceless under the sun, under the moon.

It’s not the loud, dramatic death of something; it’s the quiet fading away of things that are no longer needed. This is the death of objects, slow and silent, as they wait to either be revived or to be erased from existence.

In that slow process, there’s something deeply symbolic of the world we live in. Modern culture thrives on the disposable, relies on the constant cycle of consumption and waste. Is a culture of obsolescence, of things that were once valued but are now cast aside for the next best thing. Those discarded items witnesses to a way of life that is constantly shifting, moving, and forgetting. They too reflect the tragedy of us craving for new things to fulfill the inner void. Things die faster so we don’t feel like we’re the ones dying.

Jesús Miguel Soto