I am a collector. I collect ideas, but I also collect physical things. It’s a shame because I love the idea of minimalism.
I have old papers from a few classes I took in high school in one of my drawers. It’s a collection of information I was excited to learn and might want to revisit someday. I have a slew of movie tickets, Paris metro tickets, art museum brochures, and nearly every note or letter even written to me. I used to keep old plastic containers and glass bottles and corks and anything else with interesting form or texture. My dad would get frustrated with me for keeping the junk and I’d say, "I might need it for crafts later on."
I’m not as bad these days but there are certain tiny things which carry a lot of emotion or history in them. And the little things are adding up.
Here are two of the pack of white birthday candles that were monuments I bought for myself and burned in the snow on a roof top in February. Here is the ring that belonged to someone, and here is the one I bought for myself when I learned something. Here is the wooden elephant he saved and treasure from when he was small. Here is the gift I got for someone that I wish hadn’t arrived back. The key chain full of a memory of a moment, and the key chain that means home. The stone from the beach at Sorrento where I threw wishes into the ocean.
My room is full of little things. Each little thing has a whole world behind it. How do you throw worlds away?