06 of January 2021
Prague
step 18.
wrinkles
it has 5 pockets (one of them is almost completely toren away.)
it looks very very old. The leather is thin and wrinkled and somewhat greasy, like it has been used a lot.
the 2 snap buttons work perfectly. They have a text on it wich says:
E-C-H-T O PRYM O
not necessarily in this order, it’s hard to tell because it goes in a circle.
Inside, the lining is from a lighter brown canvas or linen, it is slightly transparent, if I hold it up to the light.
There’s a pin in it, that I didn’t even notice in the begining, it has no practical use, why would anyone put a pin in their wallet?
why would anyone put a pin in their wallet?
why would anyone put a pin in their wallet?
I can not find any sign of a brand, no matter how hard I look, if there was a sign, it has probably already faded away. (Whoever made it, they are clearly not so great in marketing. Now how would I go and buy another wallet from them, if I’d want to?)
Now as I turn it over and over in my hands I can feel its smell in my nose, but also in my fingers, it has this strange sensual quality I can’t really explain, and it’s a physical thing I’m pretty sure
(it has nothing to do with the knowledge that it was touched before me so many times by other people, or the fact, I created this whole world around it already. )
It’s just: only by touching it, I can feel it’s old and precious.
And it doesn’t mean I’d hold it with special care, at all, just a few days ago during moving and packing I remember cruelly pushing it into a very small place in one of the boxes, between a shoe and a bottle of shampoo.
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wrinkles

Alice V Robinson accessory designer for her diploma project at RCA purchased a sheep, and built a whole collection of leather accessories from the skin of this particular sheep, called no. 11458. " the entire journey from the field sheep 11458 lived in, to its slaughter, through to the tanning processes and accessories production has been documented."
https://www.rca.ac.uk/students/alice-robinson/
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another sheep story, by Russel Edson:


