I found this poem by the famous Chilean poet, Pablo Neruda.
Oh, so so so so so beautiful…
I have a crazy, crazy love of things.
I like pliers, and scissors.
I love cups, rings,
and bowls –
not to speak, or course,
I love all things,
not just the grandest,
also the infinitely small –
thimbles, spurs, plates,
and flower vases.
Oh yes, the planet is sublime!
It’s full of pipes weaving
hand-held through tobacco smoke,
and keys and salt shakers –
everything, I mean,
that is made by the hand of man,
every little thing:
shapely shoes, and fabric,
and each new bloodless birth of gold,
eyeglasses, carpenter’s nails, brushes,
clocks, compasses, coins,
and the so-soft softness of chairs.
Mankind has built oh so many
Built them of wool and of wood,
of glass and of rope:
ships, and stairways.
I love all things,
not because they are passionate
I don’t know,
because this ocean is yours,
these buttons and wheels
and little forgotten treasures,
fans upon whose feathers
love has scattered its blossoms
glasses, knives and scissors –
all bear the trace of someone’s fingers
on their handle or surface,
the trace of a distant hand lost
in the depths of forgetfulness.
I pause in houses,
streets and elevators touching things,
identifying objects that I secretly covet;
this one because it rings,
that one because it’s as soft
as the softness of a woman’s hip,
that one there for its deep-sea color,
and that one for its velvet feel.
O irrevocable river of things:
no one can say that I loved only fish,
or the plants of the jungle and the field,
that I loved only
those things that leap and climb, desire, and survive.
It’s not true:
many things conspired to tell me the whole story.
Not only did they touch me,
or my hand touched them:
they were so close that they were a part of my being,
they were so alive with me
that they lived half my life
and will die half my death.
How would your brand participate in the golden age of the geek?
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