Accumulation. Of bits and bobs throughout life. Some of us resist the urge to collect more than others. I have been trying to be extra good – now that I am what I always wanted to be: ''creatively active.'' So I collected one pile of useless papers with very important information on them, like personal stuff, and put them in a disorganised array of piles in various corners of my apartment.
And tonight I went outside and set fire to them. Not before stuffing them into an Ikea tin bin. I struck a match.
What a thrill to see the flames pick up force. Suddenly a gush of wind swept through, tousled my perfectly styled hairdo and gave the fire's core more reason to breath. So I got scared and tipped the watering can forward and over the flames, set aside for any such occasion in particular. The distinguishing salvation and sounds quickly formed into a black mush. Papery mush with distinct odour. And you could still read my name in the address line.
Obviously my intent to have my past go up in flames went up in flames. I dropped the bloppy result into the trash cans and waded back upstairs.
The porcelain parrot on my wall eyes me with disdain. Well, I understand his disappointment. However, this space feels lighter after all. Sipping my Dutch friend's cheap red wine helps, too. And yet why do we hold on to things so vehemently? They don't make for a good life. Feelings do. Words might. Actions definitely.
People. Oh absolutely.
I am quite forgetful by nature. I often wonder if this will one day dictate my fate. But so be it. As long as I never forget the smiles of those who came along for the ride (and did not singe the Ikea furnishings or eyebrows in the process.)
Wishing you a loving -