I’d like to introduce you to the God of Abandoned Objects, discovered yesterday on a Berlin garbage truck. He's the rumpled deity of half-forgotten dolls and bears of childhood-past. He's the chief idol of stilettos caught in street-grates and trodden-on sunglasses, smashed wine glasses and obsolete mobile phones.
If you stare into his little teddy eyes, you can clearly see the souls of everything you’ve ever loved and discarded. I saw the Barbie doll I dumped in a river age ten, various mix-tapes from ex-boyfriends, torn up drafts of previous novels, and a cracked porcelain dolphin I hadn't thought about in years. I stared for so long the garbage men thought I was flirting with them, rather than with the bear.
This tiny yellow god reminded me that much of my appreciation of Berlin has been through its objects: new and old, curated and abandoned, gadgets and paraphernalia, thingamajigs and art and household articles left on street corners. So I’m going to start cataloguing my love of Berlin here – not through my favourite areas or galleries or parks or markets – but through my favourite pieces of taxidermy and street-sculpture, through unicorn horns and masks and beer glasses and mopeds and bell jars.
The God of Abandoned Objects approves (and your things say hello).