Then I flew, it was wonderful, I couldn't believe it!
It's a weird luck to be such a THING for someone as old as me; As a simple THING that I am, I cannot aspire to great THINGS, I almost always play simple roles. Anyways, I do not complain, I have been quite a lot of THINGS since I started on this and on some occasions I have even had some action.
Like that time I was a knob on the door of a bank. Hands! Hands everywhere touching me! Grabbing me! It was gross, I have not felt more disgusted in my THING life. On another occasion I remember... Okay, yes, yes, I know. Go to the point.
Well, this time it was not an ordinary THING. No. This time I was something really extraordinary.
Wait, I think I am forgetting something important, surely you will be wondering "what is this all about?" Well, let me introduce myself: I am or used to be a bridge, the Waterloo Bridge, in my time I was really famous, imposing. One day all that ended, just like that, fired and unemployed in the Ministry of THINGS.
Oh, such many memories I have. When I was a young THING I went on several tasks, one day a toilet (not a pleasant job), another a traffic light. More than all simple jobs, without much action. As we are being honest, I must admit that I got a little bit wild during duty. Just some pranks; suddenly a botton is hard to press; a capricious traffic light that stays in red 23 out of 24 hours a day; a stagnant toilet that refuses to get rid of the evidence ... and my favorite, a piece of furniture with long legs that delights by bruising bare feet.
Oh, but I'm circling again, as I was saying ... this time I was something special.
You see, every time I become something different, I simply fade away and take the form of my new body (at this point I have an enviable flexibility). The last of my experiences was... How to describe it ? Somehow I was the smallest and ephemeral of things, I was nothing but at the same time part of everything; I glided happily across the seas, howled frantically in the icy eastern mountains, stroked the stars, traveled the vast vastness of the desert. At the very same time I was breeze, storm and hurricane. Then I flew through a window, I was breath and inspiration.
Then I became a thought, brainstorm that the writer shapes, tears and recreates. I was word and idea, and then I flew...
Image: Waterloo Bridge, a painting by Claude Monet