I kept my child's imagination

The other day, I was thinking about my daily sources of inspiration. I wanted to write about creativity, the boundless power of imagination; I wanted to pour out my dreams, to epilogue on the small objects of the everyday, which, in the manner of the old shoes with the laces of Van Gogh, can harbor surprising charms.

That's when I felt that sudden look on me. Yet he had only two holes instead of eyes, and a metal nose a bit long reminded me of Pinocchio. He had been thrown to the ground, abandoned waste. Inanimate.

Despite the dust that covered him, I had the impression that he was looking at me.

I do not really know what you're thinking about, when you see that piece of rubble that I ended up picking up. Perhaps you would not have noticed, if it was at your feet that he had dragged. Maybe he would have even kicked him if he had gotten in your way. After all, it was like a junk.

And yet, I found that there was something simple in his expression.

To tell the truth, he even reminded me of Amazon.co.jp's mascot:

Suddenly, I imagined the story of a scrap metal abandoned because it was no longer useful. Of a character composed of rust and iron, who had been loved by his master, who had loved in his turn; of a strange character who had lived through curious adventures, and who had finally been overtaken by the human world and broken - at the same time something in him was breaking. Then, losing his piece of humanity, he was again a mere object , thrown, forgotten, abandoned. Time rustled him more, while he was condemned to bury himself in the dust.

And if you are not convinced yet, I had already detailed here the 25 reasons to stay a child: