I always notice the details. They tell the best stories: scars which reveal a cloaked childhood; moles which speak of ancestry; hand tics which expose anxieties; furniture which uncovers interior furnishings; penmanship which discloses the beautifully commonplace – the pettiness of man which often perishes in grander, fuller, more philosophical meditations. Perhaps, the way he parts his hair. Or the way she sings a tune inside the toilet. Left handed? Right handed? The unerringly trivial written in both poignant and practical languages. The way we all speak at the same time, yet manage to let the individual voice echo. Her favourite color! A catchphrase! The awkward grasp of the kitchen knife; dental braces; quirks and idiosyncrasies!
Navigating this landscape of memory and the unrepeatable – this vast yet often neglected expanse of life’s accessories – makes me strangely happy, compelled by how entire periods, shifts, and lapses of time and space could be contained into such a private scale, carried by flesh. It is even more interesting when one realized that the bodies which inherit the features of their fathers and mothers are bound to be altered. Objects which litter our realities are picked up and thus, bound to alter and be altered too. And yet seldom do people sense how much life is packed even in the lifeless. Instruments of ordinary lives made extraordinary upon the baptism of sentiment – individual quirks through nature and nurture which wash away the perfunctory qualities of both being and object.
Hidden in the ordinariness of life’s furnishings are histories which recall and predict. Hidden between a man’s domestic implements and worldly extensions are stories – tales to love, secrets which scandalize, poetries that move. Maybe they make us fall in love more; make us love harder and better. Maybe they frighten us. Maybe they make us a little more pompous. Details carrying even more details yet so you, so us, so me – like a fingerprint. It must be love then – accents of it, reverberations and effects – how the tiniest things could offer the widest views; how the forgotten can, in the end, be the most memorable.