Things covered in dust and forgotten about are usually the most interesting things, and it makes me wonder why, at some stage this object was set down and then remained undisturbed for so long that a layer of dust settled like a skin.
There’s a whole world in those old tin sheds in back paddocks, where light sifts through the dust caked onto the small window panes, and falls onto the labyrinth of a century’s collections.
As kids, we peg memories to objects or sounds or images.
As someone stuck in the centre of a Venn diagram detailing adulthood and childhood, I’m rediscovering these memories via rediscovering these pegs. The waves of nostalgia wash a strange cocktail of emotions over me as wispy threads of childhood memories wind themselves back into my mind, as if an entire lifetime ago, or like they belonged to somebody else.
So when rediscovering the CDs that Mum and Dad played through an open window on summer evenings, or finally working out that children’s TV program that I could never quite put my finger on, or finding that the supermarket is restocking the tins of Baked Beans with the little super processed sausages in it, I’m taken back to a time which was more simple than now.
The array of pegs holding together the path which leads to the present is entirely mismatched and unique and have essentially made me into the person that I am today.
It makes me wonder what things I’m doing right now which will eventually just be a strange, pegged memory. In that, I wonder what I’m doing now that I’ll eventually forget entirely.