I thought of N when seeing Gs den of books for the first time and I was right. Recently in Copenhagen, N told me about how he likes old objects. Not because of nostalgia or their quirkyness, but because he likes quality and the sense of owning something beautiful and well thought out. He likes to have objects that give shape to certain activities and rituals he likes to do. Quality clothes. In that sense, and he admits that, he's obsessive, doesn't handle money well. All goes into the acquisition of objects. G is similar. He does his job, likes it, it's a family matter. But in reality it's also tiring and he seems to be often exhausted. But he always has time for the next book shop, emails with passionates and indie publishers, for a brocante or a vide grenier. I wonder just how much K just tolerates this because they do these every time we ask, maybe every week. It's his thing and very clearly it makes him happy. His small room is a temple to his own collection, to the objects he loves, to his own history of finding them and putting them together. I wonder how similar this is to Gr. He has a powerfully earnest look, always smiles, has an interest in the history of his own city. He has seen photographs of how it was 100 years ago and followed it's development during his own lifetime closely. Gr is a hoarder, his house, which lies on the way from the bakery to the chapel of St. Michel on the volcanic dyke in Aigiulle, is full of cans, plastic bags, bottles and so on. All neatly classified by color and stacked in wooden fruit boxes. A of course has been collecting art which speaks to her soul. A painting doesn't just have to be good or beautiful, or promising on the art market. It is a piece of herself. The artist says in color her exact thoughts. That other one expresses the condition of the woman just like how she feels it. Another one is a must have, she's absolutely sure that this work is truth incarnate. Those are the conditions. They change over time and then she gets very opinionated, very emotional about her past collection. Sometimes she wants to get rid of acquisitions like of an ex-lover. Hate or disgust play their role. Recently I have heard that people with eating disorder try to compensate their lack of control over life by controlling their body. Even if they overcome this, they often have other control issues with partners, superiors, consumer behavior. Some have to get all the awards and titles they can while others maximize work output or personal max' at the gym. As a former nerd and video gamer I know of the 100% crowd. People who cannot put down a game until they have all the collectibles, all achievements, all difficulties unlocked. There are communities around this and streamers get shit storms if they let things go. Some are OCD and it actually calms them down to be completionism in games because it is possible there. I think everyone has that one uncle or cousin in the family who "slept with 3000 women" and had the most daring stories about slipping in and out a married woman's bedroom without being noticed. My father's favorite story was about his cousin or uncle, I don't remember, who was actually a coward and incredibly jealous of his own wife, while chasing just about anybody with a higher pitched voice. This is all anecdotal but I suppose collecting is an expression of obsession. A mind trying to create comforting order by applying knowledge and incremental power on objects. Even in the case of sexual conquests. The power to own and the knowledge to arrange and make something greater than the sum of the parts. I have always been fascinated by collections, they seem logical or satisfying to me, bringing out some pattern that I wouldn't have deduced myself from all it's elements. But I have never felt the urge myself. If I am honest, I don't want to own anything, I do things for enjoyment and growth. In the past I did want to be exhaustive and study for example the Brockhaus or Ottův from A to Z, but it wasn't to collect. Rather I thought it was possible and I wanted to know. At various times I have felt bad about this. Because obsessive people stick with their passions, make something great out of them, impose them on others. They are who gets talked about. Who end up making a mark. But maybe I am just lucky to be content with myself. Most of the time, of course, I would be lying elsewise.