This table was born in 1935 by an amateur craftsman. It had such an elegant shape of legs that seems like from the Renaissance period, its surface shined as a golden sunlight of summer. It was the craftsman’s first work. It meant a lot to him, so he named it as Eleanor. Unlike any other his craft works, he’d never showed her to anybody, didn’t even pull out from his atelier, but he used to polish her every day saying “you are the most beautiful creature I’ll ever make”. Like what he said, her beauty seemed eternal. One day, the craftsman didn’t come to see her. When that became several days, she stopped shining. The mould was gnawing her and the dust covered her beauty. She couldn’t do anything but stand there. The studio seemed frozen in time without him.
Not knowing how much time has passed, the door of the atelier was opened with giant noise. A man was standing in front of the door with the cold wind. His oceanic blue eyes were sniffing the inside of the atelier, and then, his eyes stopped at her. He stepped toward her, swept her surface with his gloves on, and smiled. He took her to his house, cleaned, and placed her in the kitchen. She found her own purpose as the table at that moment. She was no longer an object to be appreciated, but to be used. As time goes on, she had worn down and there were a lot of scratches on her bright surface. But the more she was touched, the more she shined, so so ththe colour went more vibrant. She had become more mature, and that beauty was beyond description. Finally she had became a part of a place for the first time.
A couple of years later, something weird happened. First, there was an explosive roar, then the sky screamed and the ground shook. The furniture in the house fell down everywhere and the house collapsed. Eleanor was broken and hardly stood in the middle of the desolation. The man, who brought her in the house, disappeared. She got left all alone again. She was completely covered with soot and dirts, that seemed no one could notice her existence. Suddenly, a footstep approches. The rhythm of footsteps was slow, heavy, and also irregular. With the falling sound of the broken bricks, an old man with the rags on showed up. “Hello, pretty girl”, he said. He collected her shattered parts into his cart full of other broken things. The old man hobbled across the road, humming a song to himself. When he arrived at his ramshackle atelier in a small town, he gathered her parts in one place, and started to put together. Some parts were missing, but he didn’t mind. He replaced them with other broken things brought from the ruins, he carved and nailed them. After assembling, he applied chemicals on and re-polished her surface. She could no longer go back to the look she had before, but she became much more solid, strong, and she got a whole different beauty of her own.
The repairing took days. The old man worked on her all day long, and slept on the bundle of straw next to her. He was truly delighted when he finished the repairing. He took her out under the warm sunshine. Her surface caught the light and shined brighter than the sun. A truck arrived with a man. He shook hands with the old man and he looked at her. He checked over her ; passing his hand over her, knocking, and turning her over. Then he put her in the truck. The truck passed a bumpy ground, a wide plain, then arrived in a busting city. The man pulled her out of the truck in front of a second-hand store. She was cleaned up and placed in the middle of window display of the store. Many people came and went. They looked at her and touched her more than ever. However, she is still waiting. Though, she isn’t alone anymore. Now many things that was loved, but in the end, forgotten, abandoned or left, is surrounding Eleanor.