I started thinking about stuff a while back. As a recent immigrant, and I had none. I felt really in-between and all over the place, because my new life was here in London, but all my stuff was “at home”. Which made me a strange form of homesick, where not only did I miss my friends & family, I missed my things. I missed my material life.
and what of it?
It seems very superficial to miss things, but it’s more what the things represent – the memories and stories behind them that make them special. So yea, I missed my stuff. It was amazing being home and stocking up on stuff at Christmas – a bit of family mementos here, some friend photographs there. While it is important to make new friends and new memories, there is something really comforting about having a bit of home in my new space – it makes it an actual home, I feel like I live here properly now. I guess I’m not minimal enough to deal with a bare space. Or rather, I think my room just isn’t nice enough to pull off the whole minimal thing…
probably one of my favourite songs of all time. ever.