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Originally published at a.funnytimeofyear.com. You can comment here or there.  Keys have always played an important role in my life. I sometimes think it embarrassing how my love for keys came about, but such is the case with childhood memories and behaviour as you grow older. During the period where I was living in Barcelona with my family (around age 7/8), I became entirely engrossed in the magic behind keys. I say it is embarrassing because where most children would play with not only expensive toys, but each other, I become entirely interested in being alone and feeding my imagination with stories of giant castle doors that could only be opened by my key. My parents had made friends with a local bar owner, Juan, and we would often visit Juan’s Bar in the evening where my parents would socialise, and my brother and I would have the opportunity to meet the other children. I distinctly remember walking past a bollard and on top of it was this random key, balancing. I picked it up and became convinced that someone had left it there, bronze and smooth, for me to discover its magical powers. I remember being entirely content racing around the city, and much so when I returned home, with my magical key.
My mother always had a huge set of keys hanging in the hallway. The kind of keys that open grand church doors, a dirty deep bronze colour that when held up to child-sized hand, would dwarf them. I would often pick them up, jingling them and listening to heavy clunking sound of them, wondering what wonders they could give a person access to. There are few symbols that I find interesting (although I do love pi), but keys seem to jump out of me at every opportunity. I’m sure I’m not the only one that’s out there collecting keys of all sizes. I often wear a necklace of two/three small, beautifully crafted keys (as seen in this photo).
I have been thinking more and more about keys, and how I can work them into my skin, my being. Whilst I don’t mind tattoos on other people, I’m not interested in them myself. The idea of putting something (ink) into my skin, forever, is a really unsettling thought. However, the concept of scarification, or more specifically branding, is something that I have been thinking about for a long time but with no concrete idea of how I would like it to work. Becca, long time key and scar lover also (check out this photo of both her key & scar), recommended that I take a trip to see Quentin at Kalima Emporium to check out their diathermic branding. I think I may well do this.. The magic of keys continues.
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