One day my mom was moving, again, and decided she was tired of hauling my boxes of doll house furniture and Duran Duran trading cards from attic to attic. She boxed them up and mailed them to my office. I don't have a car and at the time my apartment was about the size of the boxes combined.
I purged.
I still have my first Cabbage Patch Kid and my twirling badges but I was forced to decide between my yellowing sticker collection and a much needed blender. Kitchens are for kitchen things and whiskey.
We all have those moments where we dig through memories. Sometimes they don't even belong to us but we do it because we know there is a story there and if we find enough layers, pieces, segments we'll be able to stand back and see a larger picture. Gain an understanding from a micro perspective before we see the macro. Maybe even learn how to build one. Crack in the pavement and Grand Canyon...same relative principal.
I think what I'm saying here is I'd like a new desk.
Posts
