
Of friendships and trips. Of love lost and found. Memories of individual lives etched on wood.
Running your fingers over the dented and misshaped surface, you smile. Speculate on what induced these people to carve shapes and letters on an unsuspecting timber. The need to leave a mark quite evident, however subversive and juvenile a deed. There’s a certain romance in the undertaking, the youthful mindset and guileless design.
Damn the callowness and just savour the gaiety of it. Perhaps, one day, I’ll yield to leaving a memory carved on wood.
Then again, maybe not.
“.. there is a poem called ‘Loss’ carved into the stone. It has three words, but the poet has scratched them out. You cannot read Loss, only feel it.” — Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a Geisha
Trivia: Photo taken at Caleruega, Nasugbu, Batangas, Philippines; February 2011.

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