Feeling, a bit, nostalgic, about, time here, I suppose…translated…
These alarm clocks, from the looks, you can tell they'd been on display, way, too long, like Snow White in her glass coffin, or that rose inside that glass jar, with only, one, petal, remaining………and that special someone just, never quite, get there, a bit, embarrassing.
But, clearly, the store owner is, unrelenting, not felt bothered, to put these clocks out on the display case, hoping that one day, someone will, take them all, away.
I'd often walked across small old shops like this one in the small towns of, Taiwan, with only a few pairs of glasses on display, the scattered number of, clocks, the cabinets, display cases, felt, awkward, unlike how some of the shops that just, made-do, those which are, semi-suicidal, a lot of the owners of these shops, still, kept a, serious watch, over those, vacant, display, cases, keeping the storefront, cleanly, with all the necessary lighting, not one less, and that's always, made me stay on, to take a, second, look.
photo by the writer, courtesy of UDN.com
What sort of humans would buy these alarm clocks so out of, style?
Someone like, the photographer, Tatsuya Fujiwara, perhaps.
Fujiwara's book published here, "Hands Clasped, Wanting, Nothing" had an essay, "The Old Clock", on how he'd, taken the time, waiting for the buses in a small countryside town, and gone to a shop, purchased a small clock that's been inside the display for several decades, already, forgotten by the, world, I'd loved the tale very much.
From before, I got, dragged out by a child who's stalling on eating the meals, who can't, read the, clocks, yet, bought an hourglass to teach the child to keep the time, but this trick quickly, went, bust, for the young child, watching the grains of sand, falling down in the, hourglass, became, too, sad to, eat, felt the enormous, amount of, pressures of, time.
So, there's that, saturated feel, to these old shops with the old clocks. Time seeped through the holes too, quickly that it'd become, alarming, and yet, the shopkeepers, could, always, not let that final grain of sand to stay, for everything to, come to, an, end.
This is on how time is lost, too quickly, how in a blink of an eye, everything, changes, and, shops like the writer described here, they'd become, the last of that, dying, breed, as everything in this world moves so very, fast these days…
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