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you remind me of gold


Thursday, April 11, 2013

 

 

 

Gold. I was thinking of all these gold bars, piled up in heaps somewhere.
 
It is a material like any other.

 

You can pile it up, stack it, cut it, bend it, shape it.
 
When I think of gold I see
 
minerals
 
stone collections
 
science
 
jewelry
 
the earth
 
and something romantic.
 
I see things that glitter in the dark, I see mysterious sparkling sources.
 
Like Anselm Kiefer’s gigantic paintings with small outstanding elements that speak to you.
 
Like the canopy of heaven and the sublime creatures drawn in patterns over a night sky with tiny flickering lights.
 
It is all very dramatic.

 

Like the phrase “You remind me of gold”. I would like to use that phrase of someone. I heard it in a poem somewhere and I like it. I would say that out loud and I would mean it.

 

“You remind me of gold, you remind me of gold, you remind me of gold”

 

It is sleezy and dramatic, it is far too romantic, but that’s how I want it to be.
And I guess it’s true that the people I felt love for would in a sense be golden.
After all, gold is just a material like any other and it’s all natural.

 

It is like this phrase “Eternally Yours”.
I don’t know if I believe in those kinds of words, but in a way I guess I do.
I think I am eternally yours to everyone I ever loved, in a way, and I will never leave them, nor will they leave me, regardless of physical distance or time. That’s how it is with love, I think.

 

I like small things. Things that don’t speak out too loud, that don’t shout or take place, but keep their integrity. These things intrigue me. They make me want to step up and look closer.
 
When I think about it I realize now that I have the same preferences for objects as for humans.

 

I also like black and white photographs, and the slightly worn-out look.
 
Like there is something forgotten in time, something that is slightly bashed and overlooked. It could be an old suitcase, a forgotten text, a worn-out shirt.
 
I have a lot of love for these kinds of objects.
Somehow when I look at them it is like they are all speaking to me at the same time,
saying something like
 
“Hey, look at me! I’m ragged but I’m alright”.

Rietveld Library cat.nr: 770.6-hin-1

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