Gyorgy and Erika Vees

 And they left; burnt utensils which served to cook. They left in a rage, left in sorrow, not bothering to look back at the things they left. Once beautifully crafted, now thrown away under the table with a layer of carbon and dust.

A kettle with the lid gone and the handle broken...

Sunlight pours in. Brightens the edges of things which once had a relevance, the drawers of the table, pulled open, and shut outrageously before the sad departure, carrying grief. Paint has peeled off the walls, and the picture frames staring down helplessly like orphans left in dark corners of a sunlit room.

Sunlight pours in. Brightens the edges of things which once had a relevance, the drawers of the table, pulled open, and shut outrageously before the sad departure, carrying grief. Paint has peeled off the walls, and the picture frames staring down helplessly like orphans left in dark corners of a sunlit room. Odd things befriending one another as never before. A ladder they used to scour the attic is standing against wall and close by a dusty sofa chair letting some clutter lie in its lap, and a garbage bin close by, feeling embarrassed to be so near the living room sofa.

Here the sunbeams stand. Speechless and shocked. The revolving chair and a pile of clothes thrown recklessly in its arms, a teddy bear lying in dust.

Sunlight, footloose, wanders and lingers in another room, an assortment of unmatched things, an oven fallen into disuse, stacked neatly though on a high platform and a discarded tyre of a car lying below.

Now the sunbeams have learnt the art of painting the scene with the deft strokes of art. Like a painting of Rembrandt's canvas coming to life a chair lights up the dark and throws in relief the clothes lying in its lap, the olive green colour of the shirt has not faded a bit, proudly carrying the memories of its boss.

A sad story of life lived with frugality and hope. Eviction , a devastating word that brought everything crashing down. The wooden floor cracked and the marks of despair clearly seen. the smell of burning ashes is still in the air. A bonfire of hope setting aflame and after a calm down the fire was put out , showing the remains of coffee mugs of everyday use lying unclaimed in the heap of rubble. A multipurpose table standing in the middle has two glasses filled half with water now carrying the memory of the owner who picked it up for the last time only to put it down with a heavy heart.

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Here, however, the room reveals the story of an outrage and fury, broken cutlery lying in a heap of ash, signs that the owner set the things on fire lest they fall into alien hands.

Here the heartache of leaving. A drawer that holds with care cans of food, unopened, and illustrated stories of a child's book read to him/her by a loving mother. The sunbeam is caressing it with

And suddenly you breathe a whiff of air. Enter softly. Soft toys, a family of teddy bears greets you here. Emblems of the purity of souls who lived here and left a farewell gift on the window-sill. Out there the sunshine rules in the lush green season of spring but the teddy bears have turned their back upon the forest out there. They are here to guard a child's world from the ravages of time.