Force-Fields of Remembrance
Post-Script: Part of the mystery surrounding my fascination with antiques and junk is that my folks were collectors. Every weekend, for years, they'd wander the aisles of the local flea market and fill their small house with antique china cabinets (13 at its peak) stuffed with curios, bottles, jewelry and nicknacks. An entire room (what was originally intended by the builders to be the living room) was essentially a museum, with antique chairs, tables and couches covered in plastic sheets, that no one dare enter, other than to show off to the occasional visitor. The majority of family life, for what it was, we spent in the small, crowded den, actually intended to be the dining room adjoining the kitchen, sat down in front of the television.
I always told myself that I wouldn't surround myself with such clutter. But now I'm older, and my house, though not nearly as overcrowded with material objects as my folk's, could use a good cleaning out. The good news is that I didn't come home today from the antique stores with more junk. Though I did eye an old Royal typewriter, that was inoperative and overpriced.
Typecast image via Olivetti Lettera 22 and Fujifilm X10.