Filed under: The Living Room | Tags: artifacts, dust, love, nostalgia, red hair
Below is a post I started and never finished over a year ago.
I still haven’t finished it… but I like it for what it is. Enjoy:
When I was 16 and obsessed with red hair I borrowed the black beret of a particular red-haired young man and was so pleased to find a couple of those hairs left in it. It may have been this moment that sparked my interest in our artifacts. We leave bits of ourselves everywhere, don’t we?
The more invisible the more interesting it seems: someone else’s saliva on your neck is interesting; the evaporates of your perspiration as you run against the traffic on a hot day; impeceptible flecks of the skin we shed wherever we go. We leave pieces of hair and string and lint and never think of it; our perfume in the elevator or on a traveling companion’s clothes… the traces of us, our bodies and belongings, the very most intimate evidence that we exist in the physical world: all of it fascinates me.
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