I went to my parents house last night
They still live in the house where I grew up.
I met a good friend
This old Tandberg tape recorder.
My dad found old tapes, with voices from the past
My own 2,5 year old voice, my brother and sisters voices,
my grandparents voices, my young parents voices,
from the sixties, seventies and eighties.
A window to the past, even before I was born.
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My hands knew this old friend so well,
I knew perfectly how to work it
loved to touch it, listen to it, even to feel the smell of it.
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When I was little my dad had recorded Winnie the Pooh on this recorder. When I was ill I used to sit close to it and listen to it again and again, making things with my play dough. Seeing this player, makes me think of Pooh and smelling the smell of the dough.
And these tapes has still the little girl that was me, telling her stories.