Hanging, waiting, declaring, procrastination.

Your eyes are dizzy. Where did all the smoke come from? A slight whiff of chlorine from the toilet. But the poster, it has survived all the parties, birthdays, random nights of drunkenness. It has survived your nights and mine.

Back in the day, it was recent. It drew people to an event, to a specific outing. But no one gave it the respect it deserves by throwing it in the trash. Why should it be left here when it served it purpose?

Only humans continue to exist without knowing their purpose, what a treacherous existence that is! Why should a poster with a definite expiry date suffer the same consequences?

Why should the poster watch me drink myself into comfort, into the next hangover? Be part of this repetitive motion of endless grasping for novelty?

Hello poster, it’s me. Papa Shanghai. I have come to tear you down.

Thank you for your services. You have fulfilled your responsibilities beyond the requirement.

I am the repo man. I am the saviour of posters. I am the collector of past times. I am the garbage man of hidden treasures.