Things That Inspire, or: Stories of Cherished Possessions

Each of us has our own cherished little things we would never want to part with - things we always look upon with warmth or happily pick up, use, and take pride in. It must be said that these things are usually not the most practical or the most necessary in everyday life. Moreover, they are usually well-worn, handled, and crumpled, and so a little scuffed - despite the owner's very best care for them.

I think I've seen something similar in the women's magazine "Santa", where well-known public figures talk about and show things that are dear to them - various old music recordings, books, little mugs, socks, umbrellas, and many other most unimaginable items. So then I thought - why not create a series of articles and let anyone who feels their cherished possessions deserve it tell their stories? All right, all right, you've convinced me - I'll start with myself! But I invite you not to hide your light under a bushel and to send your stories of five cherished possessions to [email protected] - P.S. Images don't need to be authentic but can simply illustrate the idea.

IINUU's inspirations

Mugs. I have a special relationship with these, as there are many of them brought from nearly every corner of Latvia and Europe (see the collection in the portfolio section). It seems I've developed a certain obsession with looking for a new and unique drinking vessel on every trip. But two among all of them are my favourites - both in a deep, rich blue: one for coffee at home, the other at the office. The first mug was bought in Croatia in the summer of 2006 and always reminds me of the Adriatic's clear blue-green waters. Substantial yet summerly light. The second - Latvian clay with the inscription "My Mug". It was bought and given to me by Ēriks on our second date at the Michaelmas Fair in Dome Square, because I had managed to complain that day that a colleague at work had taken my mug for her lunchtime coffee and never returned it (at the time I worked in a rather large team - you can't keep track of everyone).

The Pier. Yes, yes - in my mind I have practically "privatised" Riga's maritime gateway. If I want to go for a walk, think things through, have a good cry, or a good laugh, I get in the car and drive there - or ask someone to take me. There is something special about that place... Perhaps the thought, as it were, that you are standing before wide-open gates, and beyond them lie expanses still unexplored. You are free to leave through those gates at any moment. I also love the interplay of stone and powerful sea waves and wind. A certain defiance in breaking the swift and salty waves - calming them, making them still - while from the other side they spare no energy hurling themselves against the unyielding stone again and again, even for a thousand years in a row, until they wear its sides down, flatten it, gradually erode its foundations.

The Bookshelf. Exactly the kind I always wanted - natural lacquered wood, not too deep (books in only one row), open (no glass, doors, or other unnecessary details), easy to survey, and full of substantive, interesting, informative, instructive, inspiring, and otherwise beloved books, every one of which has been read at least once.

Water from the Čudari Well. A well in the courtyard of my grandfather's home from my childhood, located in Latgale, some 5 km from the Eastern border. The house stands empty now, but on the rare occasions when we travel there in summer and draw water from the well - there is no better drink in the middle of a hot day. Delicious and refreshing; you feel satiated from it alone. The tap water from the city and even Mangaļi cannot come close.

The "Россия" Purse. Purchased at Sheremetyevo Airport in Moscow on a business trip, wandering around the shops to pass the time while waiting to board the flight to Riga. Bright, elegant, practical - exactly what is needed for keeping small change (I don't usually carry large notes).