Big Book '98ROOM F4
by Kste Cetrangelo
I have been more than 58 in the old school. My name is Nell. I think I have control over my 55 years memory but sometimes much is lost. Please excuse me. Do you think one of these days I won't find any more mind at all?
Yes, history is much on my mind. I remember when Banksia was built. I watched the construction through windows shinning brightly. My position was high so I could be very sure that people could see me and know how important I was. My skin was made to look smooth so kids could admire my soft complexion. All right-minded people would appreciate the colour and also the style of my furniture.
My position changes slowly. Some days, kids shower me with rubbish and rings of cups put on my dear furniture. Some days they put up more good work on the notice board. I feel happy, loving and proud. Then I feel so sad, worried and concerned about my future.
Very sick migraines become frequent and my most classy lights flicker agonisingly. Much more than before, I feel rather cold. Mean students scratch biro marks in much of my skin and I am tattooed. Not much of my youth's fine hair remains; my carpet is faded. Classes hate coming to see me.
Because of the sad degeneration, my heart is breaking. Many times, my soul despairs. I suspect that my future is called short because no one loves me any more. I am condemned.