photo by @wakeupkitty
Once upon a time, in a strange little village, there stood an old tattered rooftop. This rooftop belonged to Mrs Rose an old widow who lived in the outskirts of the village. She was known for her odd behaviour and love for peculiar things.As the wind howled, the old rooftop rattled and shook. Its once sturdy frame was now covered in a layer of dirt and grime, and the small, thin piece of the building materials were cracked and missing. The paint on the window frames was peeling. It was a far cry from its former glory, when it had been a sight to behold, a place of pride and beauty. Now, it was nothing more than a tattered shell, a testament to the passage of time and the effects of the elements.
One sunny afternoon, a curious traveller named David visited the village. On one of his tour his keen eye immediately fell upon the neglected rooftop, intrigued by the chaotic beauty of the rooftop he decided to pay Mrs Rose a visit.
Mrs Rose welcomed him with a warm smile and a cup of steaming coffee. As they sat in her warm and scattered living room the young traveller couldn't help but ask about the peculiar rooftop. On mentioning the old rooftop the old woman's eyes lit with feelings of yearning and she began telling her story.
The rooftop decline began when i lost my once vibrant family, my husband and my two girls. When they were alive we occasionally clean the rooftop together but since their death I couldn't continue.
Neglected and abandoned the rooftop gradually succum to the harsh element of time, wind, and rain.
The young traveller listen intently, captivated by the history and sentiment woven into the rooftop's chaotic state, he offered to repair it to its former glory. But the old widow decline the offer and said "the rooftop might be a mess to others but for me it is a canvas of memories.It tells a story of families who have once lived under it's protective embrace, of lovers who shared secret beneath it, of dreams that have soared higher than it's highest peak and of tragedy.It reminds me of the beauty of imperfection".
David was really touched, he left the old widow's house with a newfound appreciation for the tattered rooftop and for Mrs Rose.
