Everybody that looks at my pictures knows that I like objects that are often overlooked. Lately I have been taking a lot of pictures of doors, widows and other things connected to a house.

If you look at the picture above this text you will see an old drain. Maybe it’s because I am a carpenter that I see what they did to mount it, and repair it. Like the little screw that secures the pipe to the squire attachment on the next pipe. I not only see these objects, but also the work that someone has put in it, and the thought processes that might have been going on to find solutions for some challenges and mistakes. It’s the same for the windows and doors, they all have stories to tell and hours of work stored in them.

You can also look at the cracks in the paint. Are they there because the paint is old , or is there some movement in the bricks behind the plaster where the paint is once smeared on. Maybe the ground underneath the house is slowly shifting, or…or…well you get the point. These objects have a lot of stories in them, if you are interested and look at them.

The poem I found for today is one that I have written for Day 1318.

Even a fake flower

will one day

be loved

for its purity

Years ago I bought some fake flowers in a thrift shop as a joke for my girlfriend, who doesn’t like fake flowers. It’s also a private joke between us, because we from Holland are known to be cheap, and I was always complaining about the expansive flowers that came all the way from a warmer place to the North of Norway, where they got sold, while already halfway trough their life. After many years these fake flowers slowly grow (haha) on here. I think because there is a specific story attached to it that has inflated the real value.

People are interesting, some more than others. Objects are interesting to, some more than people than others.