traces

So many traces in this flat of the lives lived here. Obvious things like books - old Soviet encyclopedias, health and fitness magazines from the 50s - photographs and ornaments, but also things that reflect a specific Russian trajectory. There is a different kind of light switch in every room – all poorly fixed and just another example of years of inadequate and relatively random supply and distribution of consumer goods. But then there are three variations on telephones from different periods up to the 1960s - one parent worked for the national phone company - still proudly displayed and working (in fact I have disconnected two – this is only a two-room flat – but am already regularly rung on the remaining item by them upstairs....) And then I may not have mentioned that every available cupboard space is stacked with coloured plastic goods. Plastic buckets, bins, lids, baskets, boxes, flowerpots, jugs and other unrecognizable whatnots. Another story there then to be explored, about a sideline in selling plastic consumer items. (From the difficult 90s? As an addition to chemical engineering? A job for the son?).

Oh, and this evening, I was brought an old but beautifully soft and repaired mohair blanket and a pair of thick socks from the Caucuses (so I don't get cold).