Viking ships, ancient, old and/or reconstructed. all dark and with curly parts. dark day, dark rooms, dark ships. too dark to take a picture without the flash. with the flash, it’s too bright to see them like they really look, imposing with their old scratched-up wood, throwing creepy shadows on the wall. shitty camera, shitty photographer. the norwegian vikings were called “the rowers”, the tour guide says.
I know nothing about photography, even though I wouldn’t mind. so I use automatic flash. it’s only good for taking photos of generation facebook making hot goofy faces, smiling blowjob smiles practiced in the mirror so many times it looks too real. I don’t take too many photos of people. so my camera and I don’t really go well together.
the ships look all flashed out, not dark enough. fleshed out would look better. then the battery dies. so I just look. close my eyes and keep looking, soaking in the atmosphere. trying to reach the atmosphere behind the glass vitrines, with its perfect temperature- not the one in the room, guys giggling and girls whispering about previous nights. the varnish is the only thing holding them together, tour guide says. touch it and they fall apart.
ships, weird sticks, and many accessories. artefacts. am I imagining the indonesian elements in the decorations? no, dutch girl from surinam says, I see them too. everyone likes the ships, tour guide says. they’re on the coins, they’re on the stamps and postcards. but what I like best is this bucket. how did the buddha figure get there? and really, there he is. skinny buddha sitting cross-legged, smiling from the handle of a bucket.
it’s the way you call me another guy’s name when I try to make love to you, led zeppelin singer says.