Laughter is contagious.


During the ‘80s, she had a small recording machine, on which she had her last husband’s laughter, right before he left her… it was one of those gadgets shaped into parted lips, which start playing hysterical laughter when pushed together… she used to listen to it, sometimes compulsively, as if capturing some lost memory, maybe holding on to the past, and used to laugh… later on, the more the war ravaged through her city, the more she felt detached… when survival becomes the first thing on mind, memories become irrelevant.
Years later, among other things the laughs were passed on to me…
I listen to those old laughs now. Laughs from happier times, aged, faded, like old pictures yellowed by two decades, the clothes are out of style, the names are barely mentioned… but the laughs are still as contagious as ever…