the next movement

Things are being put in boxes and bags, with little regard for organization, and even less regard to sealing everything up. After years and years of moving around boxes I've never officially unpacked, this is too much. I've got too much shit.

Something's gotta give. My packrat tendencies will have to take take a backseat for a while... maybe a permanent demotion is in order.

Materially, I can't handle it anymore. As much as I assign some kind of significance to every little bit of life that comes into my possession, I've already learned to let things go.

Lord, how I've learned. The more I can manage it on my own terms, the less I will own... or rather, the less it will own me.

catch and release