With my new found habit,
the old underwood got out. 

A typewritter in French is a she. 
She will turn 100 years old next year.

A bit of oil, I fixe her missing feet
by using screws and a bottle cap. 

This typewritter used to belong to my
grandfather. He passed away a 
few years before my birth. 

He was the doctor of the village. 
I am sure a lot has been written 
on this machine.

During the time I studied theatre
in college, this type writter
was at the center of my creative
process. 

Poetry, plays and folies 
were typed on it. 

A time filled with decadence, 
drugs and orgies. It would make
for an interesting story.