Sunday, May 10, 2009

More adventures

Ok. Good news. I went to Irina's last week. Never thought we would start again our painting sessions. But we did. Half the time we spent eating and half painting and going for a walk with Puma, the most loved dog on Earth. Nevertheless paintings emerged. I started 2 that I can now finish at home. Not that I have yet, a week later, but I will and I did do some work on them, one of them... See? And you thought I was a good-for-nothing. Well I did, almost. That put sunshine in my heart and then this week, I made again (Gohd, isn't that crazy?) ...some unbelievable thriftshop discoveries. You thought the wallet was a neat one? wait...

Went to my favorite vintage bookstore (if you leave a to die-for-coment, I'll tell you where) which is truly the best secondhand book store in the world, and went to my usual posts: childrenbooks and Art sections, but wasn't feeling the vibe there, so I squeezed by piles of no-time-to-look-at-them treasures and headed to the "magic wall of wonders" (I just made up that name - if you find a better one you win something!) and went through my usual drawers, depleted, mostly by me I suspect, labelled "Photos", "Travel brochures", "Illustrations"... and started to look about for unexplored area on the tall, wide, and very old wall unit.

At the bottom a drawer was labelled "documents", in it some awsome stuff, a 1800s letter, 1920 train tickets, 2 old sale vouchers frome an Art auction, all with prices from 10 years ago I think, and then I saw it: the little red book. It called my name, I stretched a hand and pulled it out. It was someone's journal, from 1940. Written in bold brown ink. Each day (page) is filled with more or less equal amounts of terrible unhapiness and yet is circling in this patern of unbearably dull routine. Who was he? why was he not working? Old or young? furthermore it has even sadder inuendos, like "I realised what a mess I made of it all"...

The negative energy it radiates is tangible. I will keep this diary and heavy burden of sorrow and think of what can be done with it. I feel it came to me for a reason. I know the right idea will pop-up when the time is right.

And then today I found a very old sewing basket (my 3rd and best one). It may have been originally a fishing [creel?] not sure. I worked hard all afternoon to refurbish it and it's content: lots of cute little needle sets and mending threads of many vintage colours mostly... which put together makes me think more of a man's sewing basket (more of a sock mending kit than a sewing basket). Think so. It was covered with a large amount of rust (from the needles and the basket tin liner) - rusted needles are salvageable with an sos pad and a lot of patience - and so was the tin liner. Looks like the little ball of red wool was home spun and there was an adorable primitive home made needle book that I brought back somehow from the brink of perdition.

I am pretty satisfied with myself.

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