Why have not gotten rid of any of the following seven items, most of which are useless, not even visible or hand or have virtues of melancholy or nostalgia? Habit and inertia, no doubt, but also a custom inherited from uncles to nephews property Cabraliego side of my family Asturias.
My father inherited from his uncle Florentino, who for thirty years he lived in Mexico with each and every one of the copies of the newspaper Excelsior , which was signed almost since he arrived in the country, and he in turn of his aunt Mary, a bitter spinster who, although given the considerable wealth of one of his brothers, due to the poverty they grew up and the economy imposed by the English Civil War, full of hardship and deprivation, was never able to throw anything away. Perhaps the pretext of writing post somehow inspired by "Journey around my desk" ( http://bit.ly/dWllU5 ) anime me finally to get rid of them. However, I must confess that now that I think about most of these things and brought to light the reasons why I have not parted with, I have the feeling that, at least in some cases, neither will I be able to achieve this time.
A white earthenware jug (1984)
was one of the first objects entered the house of St. Jerome where I went to live after the separation of my parents. I brought him my friend Felipe Jiménez Granada one of the first times I came back from Spain, where he had gone to live a year earlier, shortly after finishing high school.
time did what seemed impossible: to stain the surface of the mud for years pristine noble of this beautiful object designed to carry and drink water. For some reason I do not understand, not what I came to consider as part of the simple decoration of my house and over the past four years has lived an exile in the farthest corner of my bedroom closet, next to a toy cat and a hammock that I bought in Puerto Escondido.
The rain stick (1987)
If I wanted to get rid of an object more often and better argument is this rain stick that frankly do not understand under what kind of excitement I bought in the bazaar of the year Saturday in Eugene, Los Angeles and I made an inseparable group that eventually led us to the southeast on a journey of several weeks.
When I thought that eventually get him, if only because during the five years I was in Spain I completely forgot, I turned to run into him just trod territory. My brother, ahead of my own arrival, I made for my new house carrying some items that belonged to me and the first thing I saw as I walked in it was nothing less than the rain stick in the corner side window, instead of that I no longer dared to move and where he has been, in its way immutable and eternal, for the past four years.
A polka dot shirt (1992)
not long ago was closer than ever to go away when the temperamental Afelia sharply argued the absurdity of keeping in the drawer this cotton shirt, size M, Tommy Hilfiger brand, which I bought in a clothing store in Lewisburg, Pa., the year I lived on the campus of Bucknell University.
never been in use ever I found the appropriate occasion to use it continuously. Two or three years I wore for New Year's Eve party on the beach and once carried a a red ribbon in the eyelets and can not remember why. As I see in the picture I made my cousin Jose in June of 2000 I just found in a notebook, the last time I put it was exactly a decade ago, on my 36th birthday party, and even ended up with fantastic because it changed me why he and his wife gave me that night.
Chagall's Cat (1994)
A girlfriend who spent one season in New York made him so funny this cat copied from famous oil painting Marc Chagall (Paris through the window, " 1913) he saw at the Guggenheim Museum Store, which had no other occurrence to buy and send them involved in three or four layers of wrapping paper with a friend returning to Mexico.
It is a nice experience to see the cat with a human face in three dimensions and review it from beginning to end, including the left flank (the painter left hidden but designers the museum decided to do the same as we do see), as if we had literally taken off the table. In recent years, the feline Toy has kept a silence almost unnoticed at the top of the wardrobe, bought with a hammock on the beach in Oaxaca and the cruse of Andalusia.
A wall clock (1996)
A cousin by Monica Braun, editor of Viceversa mid-nineties , wanted to advertise your service repair antique clocks on the pages of the magazine. From the first conversation I expressed my doubt that the idea could work. He insisted, so for some months kept an advertisement for a quarter of a page that was paying with zeal and punctuality.
the end, with the closure of his shop, leaving a balance that could not pay and I proposed to do with this beautiful grandfather clock Urgos brand, originally a German company that I read on the net that was devoted to military manufacturing during the Third Reich. The simplicity of its title and structure of wood on which is mounted, it does not seem to be the original, make a beautiful combination. It retains the original key, that years ago, at least for a few weeks, I learned to use properly. Since returning to Mexico has been on the floor of my bedroom, on the side of the window, waiting for a new resurrection.
An Australian boots (1999)
came to me, although I should say that I got I them-in 1999, has been the worst year of my life, when by a sort of clearing the destination traveled to the city of Sydney to a wedding on behalf of my grandmother Fernanda. Never had and probably never again have some shoes like this: comfortable, flexible, sweetest.
Al put those boots Rivers brand, which for a typical error of assessment of the time I bought a number higher than mine but I went to change the next day , I felt a similar feeling to come home, even if that eventuality arise to fourteen thousand miles from Mexico City in the heart of the remote Pacific. I've never had the courage to throw them away and since I stopped using them, about five years ago, once their virtues are turned against them, have enjoyed an honorable retirement at bottom of the closet between other pairs of far less merit.
gift cup Nattie (2001)
Shortly after coming to live in his house in the neighborhood Stoke Newington, London, Nattie Golubov put into my hands, by way of welcome, this porcelain cup that I drank coffee every morning for the past nine years, until recently I had to give it officially lost. This is the model "golfer" from the Spode Blue Room Collection ( http://bit.ly/ejsxmg ). In 2007 a servant girl broke it hit the handle and quietly without saying anything, I do not say anything and so I kept using until I, in a sudden movement while washing, I broke irreparably by the same hand made thing six months.
This week I asked by email to Nattie per cup and his response was: "That kind of Spode china is classic, I like it because I relate to a lifestyle now-defunct English very particular, Woolfiano say, and Sanborn's pottery. " Immediately followed, ironically, wrote: "Sanborn's!". A few minutes later, another email, still added: "It throws the rest."
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Photo of Felipe Jiménez Athens mailed me himself during a business trip to Greece, living and in Spain, the drawing that appear with the polka dot shirt, so did my cousin Jose at my birthday party in 2000; the announcement of repair antique clocks I took the number 24 Viceversa (May 1995), and the portrait of Nattie Golubov, his Facebook page.
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