In the back yard of a house I was cleaning, there was this chair. It was an empty chair.
There, amidst the rubble and cat food, my hands sweated inside my rubber gloves as I wondered who had sat in that chair. It was a pretty good chair, which got me to thinking that another thing to ponder would be: who would later sit in that chair?
Sitting is oft enjoyed by all or most and the idea that any number of folk both grand and base might have sat there, or might sit there, lent a kind of solemnity to the place.
Might this be the place of rest for a king? Or perhaps a fashion designer? It might even provide rest for the other, less relevant, members of our society.
I apologise for the misleading title... The chair wasn't so empty after all.