Memory collector.

The memories that hide in my books.

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I’m a sentimental man. I haven’t collected any particularly strange items, I am not in possession of my dog’s milk teeth or my baby toenails, thank goodness. Still, I like to keep small things, the physical objects that tell little stories about my life and the lives of the people I love. For instance, I have three film cameras: one belonged to my father, one to my grandfather and one I spent several hours repairing. I have owned others in the past, but I sold them when they collected too much dust or when my petrol tank was empty. I can’t imagine ever letting go of my dad’s camera, though. I collect things here and there, perhaps as some kind of insurance against the loss of my precious memories. I remember a fantastic evening with my girlfriend and her parents in their hometown, Cologne, Germany. We walked amongst landmarks in the old part of the city, explored the treasury of an ancient Cathedral, aimlessly puttered around at sunset, and then they treated me to some traditional regional food and a couple glasses of the local beer, Kölsch. I kept the coaster my beer sat on that night, now it sits on my bookshelf. It caught my eye this morning, and I recalled that Saturday with overwhelming fondness. I suppose that’s also why I’m sharing this particular example with you, but my room is littered with objects that tell the stories of evenings like that one.

Bookmarks are perhaps my favourite ways to collect memories. I have a small, yellow envelope in my bedside drawer, half filled with thoughtfully collected memories, waiting to be useful. I doubt that I will ever read enough books at any one time to make use of all of my bookmarks simultaneously, but each one triggers some story I share with a beloved place or person, I can’t bring myself to get rid of any. And why would I! Since they fill me with such ridiculous joy and pride, I want to share a select few of my bookmarks with you and a snippet of the story behind each one.

I don’t usually keep the bookmarks I get from bookshops, but for whatever reason, I kept this one. Litt Home & Book is a store built in the facade of an old house; upstairs, in what was likely once a bedroom, is a room filled to the brim with books. In that room, six friends and I spent far too much time looking at novels we weren’t going to buy, showing covers to one another and walking recommendations across the room to plunk them into one another’s hands. It was our day off from the summer camp we all worked at, and we chose to spend it in a tiny town in upstate New York called Calicoon. We spent hours in a coffee shop (where I was pleasantly surprised to meet a fellow Capetonian), we overturned three or four thrift shops, we window shopped up and down the high street. I have a photo of the other six sitting in a restaurant. We all sat there, sharing two large vegetarian pizzas, chatting the day away. That day I bought a book for myself, and the cashier gave me a box of illustrated cards for free, heaven knows why. I wound up writing little notes for a girl on those cards. That girl sat next to me in the coffee shop. And at lunch. That girl is my girlfriend, now.

When I signed my contract to work at the summer camp in the States in early 2022, I told my whole family. We have fairly regular family days, usually a bring-and-share lunch at someone’s house. At one lunch shortly before I left, my ouma (Afrikaans for grandma) handed me an envelope with cash in it; she held onto my fingers as she did and told me to use the money for America, for something special. My mind lit up - what could be a part of my first journey to the US? And what could continue to be a part of the story once I got home? I decided on a smallish crossbody bag just big enough for my phone, wallet and a film camera. The perfect travel bag, one that would end up going all over the world with me, from NYC to Liverpool. Sealand is a South African brand that makes loads of gorgeous stuff out of reclaimed canvas, and this bookmark is most of the tag from my bag. I used a credit card as a template to size down the Sealand tag, and I love the size. I carried a little bit of home with me everywhere that bag went. Every time I cracked a book, too.

I’ve never been to an escape room, and coincidentally, neither has my wonderful girlfriend. I don’t remember trying to find one when I visited her in Berlin, but we happened upon the next best thing. Whenever we visited a book shop, which was once a week at least, I would wander around the board game section. There would often be a bookcase or two dedicated to EXIT, a kind of escape room in a box. Naturally, all of the copies of the game I found were in German - the instructions alone were a challenge for me. I was determined to find an English copy, though, and when I did, we turned it into a date night. We stayed at home, made some pasta, drank a glass of wine, and tackled the challenge. It was loads of fun. I mostly remember reading the rules more times than needed, teasing one another, and loud screams of excitement when we got something right. Needless to say, we took the whole thing far too seriously, which was a large contributing factor to the incredible fun we had. This is the back of one of the cards given as a memento after solving the escape room, you have to solve the puzzle yourself to see the illustration on the other side!

The first time I went to Scotland was just before my 19th birthday; I spent two nights in a hostel in Old Town Edinburgh. It was the first time I had ever traveled alone, so I didn’t see much. My anxiety or doubt or general overwhelming sense of caution dictated that I stick to the main roads and big shops. Side note: I had my first Five Guys burger in Edinburgh, which I think is funny, considering the franchise was born in Virginia, USA. I guess I just don’t picture rainy, grey Scotland as burger country. Great burger though! I returned to Scotland as a 22 year old, this time accompanied by a Scottish and an Irish friend. Exploring was much more fun, and I found myself leading my Irish friend around the city, trying my best to act like a local. We had a Greggs sausage roll in Edinburgh. Two actually. Later on, that same week, we all went to Great Cumbrae island in search of adventure and fish and chips. You take a ferry from Largs to get to the island, and this is my train ticket coming into Largs from Glasgow. I ended up bringing a 100 year old, fine china espresso set back on the train with me, but that’s a story for another day. I love this little piece of paper from the other side of the world.

Hey, that’s me! I don’t use a picture of myself as a bookmark, but in the interest of my privacy and the privacy of the people I love, this is the photo I’ll show. I’ve been a film photography fiend for about three years now, and at first, all I did was snap the photos. But soon, I learnt a bit about repairing cameras; first out of necessity, but then in keen fascination. When I was working at that summer camp in upstate New York, I got to share my love for film with the campers, and I taught them all about the cameras and how to use them. But I also had the opportunity to develop and print the images myself. You know that thing they do in movies with the red lights and hanging the pictures on a clothesline? That’s what I did, and what the campers did, too. I have a few pocket sized images, just like this one, that I printed myself. I took the picture myself (though that’s less impressive), I developed the negative myself, and I printed it myself. That little piece of paper, other than showing me the faces of people I love, also tells a story of my journey as a photographer. Hopefully it’s a very, very long story.

I’ve realised that, quite by accident, almost every bookmark is from a different place in the world. The Litt card and my photograph are from New York, the Sealand tag is from Cape Town, the EXIT memento is from Berlin, and the train ticket is from Glasgow. What a lucky fish I am to have seen all those places, and to have loved ones who continue their adventures and lives there! This is why I am so sentimental, to remind myself of the blessing of life, of relationships, of stories. These bookmarks, half of the things that hang on my wall or line my bookshelf, all of them are the sparks that ignite the flames of my memory. My life doesn’t look like this, day to day, it isn’t all islands and board games. But I keep these to remind me, maybe to convince me, of the unbelievable colour that my world has been painted in. Do yourself a favour, the next time you have a beer with people you love, save the coaster.

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If you didn’t notice that each book is different, scroll up and have a squiz - these are some of my favourite titles. In fact, the book I bought at Litt was the copy of Outliers in the 4th photo. If you know and love a sentimental sod like me, please send this journal to them.