I grew up with antiques all around me but I never really paid any attention to them nor do I understand why people liked antiques so much. The antiques in my house was owned by my Grandpa. He died in 2011 when I was only 11 due to lung cancer. He was the father that I had. He taught me a lot of things that my Dad didn’t. Since he died, I started paying more attention to his stuff in the house. There’s a lot of oil lamps which you can build them piece by piece and you can switch one thing with the other piece from another lamp. He was also a stamp collector and I just discovered that he collected collections of books of stamps. What I see is dedication and cool stamps. There are antique clocks around the house. Every night when I was a kid it would make a sound every midnight and all 9 of them would make a sound. They stopped making sound after my Grandfather died. And then there are old bicycles, the one that the Dutch used to ride when our country was being colonized. When I was a kid I used to wonder if one day I will grow tall enough to be able to ride those bicycles. Unfortunately, I did not grow tall. There are so many things that I could not fit here but one of the reason why I finally got fascinated by antiques is they resonates the human soul. It’s hard for me to explain but just staring at it. It feels like you are looking at humanity. Looking at someone’s life stories. Like looking at the diary of someone you don’t even know. Someone might used to ride the bike everywhere and you don’t even know who the person is. It could be a Dutch soldier, it could be a girl, it could be the Japanese after they took over. It could be a gift for a boy who has come to age. It could be stolen from the shop by some bandit. Mystery. I think the word I was searching for was mystery. The thing, the antique you are staring at, tells the untold stories. And it’s gonna stay as mystery for as long as you know. One day, if I die and someone has inherited the things that was once owned my grandfather, and then by me, and then passed to someone, and that person passed it to someone else, the person that owns the antique at that time might not even know my grandfather personally. Isn’t it fascinating?
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