The old guitar of my mother

27.12.2025

I decided to start playing guitar earlier this year. My mother took one out of a dusty corner in her room telling me it's a little bit broken. 

I admire that guitar. It may not be best sounding, and the strings are little rusty, but it has a beautiful story.

My mother bought that guitar from a band whose name has been forgotten. She learned, played, and at some point lost interest. But, she didn't throw that guitar in a corner to dust. No, she took it with her to trips and gatherings, where her good friends played it for everyone. Once the guitar fell and the neck of it broke. They glued it back together, and from then on the guitar will never sound like any other. That's the beauty of the guitar.

Now that same guitar is in my room, I play it sometimes, and so does one of my dear cats, Jack.