today i cleaned my apartment. well, i cleaned my life.
i am a man of few possessions, i have not many material belongings. i own one piano, one desk, one computer on it, one pair of skis, one bicycle and one bed. the rest are all tiny things of enormous meaning, which fit in one box and which i consider non-material (for most practical discussions).
today i did one of those apartment cleanups where you get rid of stuff you no longer need. i donated to goodwill, to the public library, and also i simply threw things away. when i moved here five years ago i realized my whole life fitted in a handful of boxes really. but today i realized i had way too many things. so i cleaned up my apartment.
and once i got rid of the stuff, i went though those tiny things of enormous meaning, carefully deciding in which shelf, album or box they’d go. i surely cried. of nostalgia, and sadness, and especially of happiness. how lucky i have been, and i still am. many of these memories are old, very old. some are very recent. and some are new, but feel old. i can’t still believe how much has happened to me in the last five years, which feel like fifteen really. i never though i’d go through that much. yet, after cleaning the apartment, in the intimacy of all the recollections and memories and thoughts, i was more certain than ever that i still am the same me that i have always been.
also, another thing that hasn’t change is that, it seems, my life still fits in twelve boxes. well, plus a piano i guess.