Doubtless unforgettable, forgotten
Borges’s poem lingers on the quiet intimacy of objects, companions of our unnoticed days.
The walking‑stick, coins, and key‑ring are not trivial but emblems of mortality, humble and enduring.
A pressed violet in a book recalls an afternoon once unforgettable, now already forgotten.
The reddened mirror reflects an illusory dawn, a fragile glow of time’s deception.
Ordinary things files, atlases, wine‑glasses serve silently, faithful yet indifferent to our fate.
They are blind and secret, continuing their service long after we are gone.
The paradox is haunting: memory fades, but matter persists, holding echoes we can no longer claim.
The poem dignifies the everyday, showing how objects cradle our stories without knowing.
It is tender in its melancholy, acknowledging both the fragility of life and endurance of things.
Ultimately, Borges whispers that even in oblivion, the world of objects remembers us in silence.
Love this! What seems insignifiant but takes up so much of our lives… and then we’re gone ..
Good to be reminded about how unstoppably great Borges was.
A legend and one of my earliest influences that made we want to write.
Yes, time is quite a thing. Sad really.
So incredibly sad. I think about it all the time as a mom to a 2 1/2 year old.
Borges’s poem lingers on the quiet intimacy of objects, companions of our unnoticed days.
The walking‑stick, coins, and key‑ring are not trivial but emblems of mortality, humble and enduring.
A pressed violet in a book recalls an afternoon once unforgettable, now already forgotten.
The reddened mirror reflects an illusory dawn, a fragile glow of time’s deception.
Ordinary things files, atlases, wine‑glasses serve silently, faithful yet indifferent to our fate.
They are blind and secret, continuing their service long after we are gone.
The paradox is haunting: memory fades, but matter persists, holding echoes we can no longer claim.
The poem dignifies the everyday, showing how objects cradle our stories without knowing.
It is tender in its melancholy, acknowledging both the fragility of life and endurance of things.
Ultimately, Borges whispers that even in oblivion, the world of objects remembers us in silence.
Love this! What seems insignifiant but takes up so much of our lives… and then we’re gone ..
Good to be reminded about how unstoppably great Borges was.
A legend and one of my earliest influences that made we want to write.
Yes, time is quite a thing. Sad really.
So incredibly sad. I think about it all the time as a mom to a 2 1/2 year old.