A tumbleweed just rolled past the living room. A layer of dust has covered my shoes. Objects that are so meaningful to me in my everyday life now lie still, waiting for the day to come when they can be useful again, the day when they can fulfil their purpose again.
It's kind of sad, really. They've been abandoned, like a favourite doll that a child has outgrown, or a favourite book that has been unwittingly left behind during a move.
Things. Just things. With no feelings, no thoughts, no sense of purpose. No value other than that we attribute to them. No usefulness without a person. Just lying there, waiting for the day to come when I can run again.