Memorabilia or phobia?

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People drive from all over Europe each year to this garage sale in Crevecoeur. The “Brocante” gathers more than 2000 exhibitors, many of whom are professional dealers hoping to attract a crazy collector ready to pay a fortune for the stuff they had saved from the bin (sorry for sounding sarcastic, sometimes this is the impression I get. Though some objects are quite “historically” interesting*). Some of the exhibitors are private vendors, families cleaning up their attics from old dusty useless stuff, getting rid of their recently-deceased-grandma’s  furniture, trinkets, clothes and skulls**. They would sell anything — family photographs, grandpa’s war or long-service medals, postcards and old notebooks, — with the aim of making a little money to buy some stuff that their own children would heartlessly sell again in a few years. Well, this is an illustration of what recycling means.

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* see picture of wartime transmitter
** see picture of grandparent’s skulls (I am not joking ! :-)).

Pictures were taken in Crevecoeur, a town not far from the city of Amiens. I enjoyed taking pictures of objects I would never buy so long as I am not ready to become a collector of anything. Looks like I am in harmony with the idea of chaos as explained by José Saramago.

“There are people like Senhor José everywhere, who fill their time, or what they believe to be their spare time, by collecting stamps, coins, medals, vases, postcards, matchboxes, books, clocks, sport shirts, autographs, stones, clay figurines, empty beverage cans, little angels, cacti, opera programmes, lighters, pens, owls, music boxes, bottles, bonsai trees, paintings, mugs, pipes, glass obelisks, ceramic ducks, old toys, carnival masks, and they probably do so out of something that we might call metaphysical angst, perhaps because they cannot bear the idea of chaos being the one ruler of the universe, which is why, using their limited powers and with no divine help, they attempt to impose some order on the world, and for a short while they manage it, but only as long as they are there to defend their collection, because when the day comes when it must be dispersed, and that day always comes, either with their death or when the collector grows weary, everything goes back to its beginnings, everything returns to chaos.”

Excerpt from José Saramago, All the Name.

Here is something to chill out on. Listen to the soft-sound saxophone burst out laughing 🙂 — Louis Prima & Sam Butera, Harlem Nocturne

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