Of moving items

After years of temporary existence abroad, it is odd to gather all things mine in one place. Sort out the chaos, throw away old papers - negative, positive, neutral documents feed the fire or fill the recycling boxes. Finally moving to rather than moving between.

Moving shows what you own. Volumes and numbers are always bigger than you think. But what I least expected is that so many unknown items are "mine".

In my mind, ownership is based on knowing and using something.. Now a flood of bric-a-brac claims that I'm supposed to refer to them with possessive pronouns!

In the chaos there are many bits and pieces that evoke memories, but twice as many things that time removed all souvenir value from. It feels like "property" in reverse, the items have chosen me as their owner and will follow me whether I know them or not.


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