“we ignore reality at our own peril”
I know someone who is a master of misery. Her conversations often circle back to the topics of places she used to live in or people who either through death, desertion or just the vicissitudes of life are no longer around. Whenever she speaks about any of these she gets teary-eyed, sighs a lot, and visibly sags before your eyes, weighed down as she is by this burden of absence.
She also has, and hangs onto, a massive collection of “stuff”. There are rooms in her home whose original purpose have been voided due to the amount of things piled in them. Her collections include: Thimbles, ceramic pigs, multi-colored ribbon, old medicine bottles, cigar boxes, small Pot Belly figurines, books books and books, vinyl records, crocheted doilies, handmade quilts, and more… much more!
I have come to see that these two aspects of her life… the collections and her nostalgic…
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