I have got used to changing places, countries, and places within countries. I moved a lot. Every time I moved I had to leave things behind. Every time you move you have to redefine what is important. When I was leaving London for good, I counted how many places I’ve changed for nearly 5 years living there. I counted 14; most probably I’ve forgot some of them. 14 times I had to pack and unpack things in a new place. Moving within one place is one thing. You can carry or move most of your staff with you. Moving things by hand, by underground and on the bus, moving things in a friend’s car, moving things in a hired van, moving things in a track for moving horses; finally moving things in supermarket trolleys with friends also can make a nice memory.
There were 3 of us, and we were broke. So we pushed our trolleys all the way down from Hackney to Angel, sharing a bottle of Teacher’s to warm up in a pissing November rain. We were artists; most of the staff we moved (and had) were paintings. Generally, if you want to paint, everything will do. Walls, doors, pieces of wood, carton boxes… Most of this you leave behind when you move.
Finally leaving London for good I had to pack everything what is important. I thought it’s funny to define importance of things by their weight: 20 kilos of necessary things and memories in total. … I had to damp or give away everything exceeding those 20 kilos, including many paintings once again. The dearest ones I stripped off from frames and rolled though; never to be stretched again as a matter of fact: because I never settled down. I remember places by things left behind. I’m not attached to things; on the contrary. I just try don’t keep anything what I don’t need. My wife told me as while visiting her friend in Sardinia, she was shown a wardrobe full of T shirts and clothes her friend used to wear since high school: that was her way to keep track of her life. So I keep my track by abandon things.
Sometimes we don’t have chance to pack things; rather we left with what we have. A few days ago I left my home in the morning in rush with a feeling I’m not coming back. Details are irrelevant, what is important is what all I had was my handbag with which I headed to work. Continue reading ‘Things we belong to’
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