Hospital waiting room. Humans, huddled, in dark clothes, bent over; sad, wilted plants, hanging their heads.
In a corner, between two rows of plastic seats placed at right angles against the wall: something bright, shining: the silvery column of a polished dustbin. Standing to attention. Eager to serve. Diligently waiting. So intent on being seen as inviting and sparkling – the dustbin makes me smile.
Grey figures sit, motionless, eyes staring downward. A mute chorus. Meek. Not noticing the gleaming white tiles below their unmoving feet. Unaware of its playful mirroring the wall and ceiling lights that turn it into a fairytale dance floor humbly awaiting a human foot stepping onto it, to move, slide, in rhythm to a secret melody. Who will dare be the first?
I smile, but cross my legs.
Beauty all around. Humble happy inanimate objects, gracefully willing to serve us.