Mary Lee

TWO EXERCISES - WEEK 1

3. an object burnt

      I can only talk of part of an object that was burnt: a few pages from
my diary. The rest of the little book I killed by drowning it.

      It was the diary of my 22nd and 23rd years. Blue and purple
impressionist flower patterns decorated its front and back covers, and the pages in between were filled with the greatest love story of my life yet, written in black ink.

      The decision to destroy the diary came when I realized I had to move
on. My original plan was to burn it, just as love stories, romantic movies and my own sister had taught me to. I placed a plate on the floor of my room, tore a few pages from my diary, put them on the plate, and lit them with a match. I watched the sheets blacken and wither in the flames. When I saw how much smoke came out of it, however, I decided to soak the rest of my journal. I tore more pages from the book and pushed them down to the bottom of a wash basin filled with water. If they floated up for breath, I pushed them harder till they suffocated to death. Then I waited and watched the water slowly turn pitch black. 

      I poured the effaced memories down the sink drain and dumped the
drenched, once more blank pages into the wastepaper basket.

4. an object I want to get rid of

      I still have not found the time to place an advertisement for my word
processor, which has stayed with me for 5 years, keeping me company on many a night when I wrote my BA thesis, MA thesis, numerous term papers, concert programmes, greeting cards, and one or two love letters. 

      It is a model called "Cremona", advertised at the time I bought it
for being best suited for English writing. I fell in love with it at first sight: its
colour a soothing ivory-white, its cover curve smooth and graceful, its figure delicate and petite. The sample was the only model left in the university union, and I wanted it the very same day. The pleasant shop assistant told me they could order a new model for me. I said I wanted the sample. Whereupon he gave me a 15,000 yen ($150) discount,
and offered to clean it before delivery. I replied I wanted to take it home
myself, that very day. He then wiped it with a piece of cloth and some cleanser, packed it, and handed it to me, smiling all along.

      I still remember the excitement that followed during the next few
weeks. I still remember the intimacy that developed over the years. I know it is time to let go, since I have bought a notebook computer, whose competence by far surpasses Cremona's. But I simply do not seem to find the time to transfer all the data from Cremona to my new computer, and then advertise to sell it.