Places I’ve Lived Ranked by How Much of My Stuff is (Still) There:
- Georgia, 2 boxes + tuxedo
- Buenos Aires, 1 small suitcase + bookbag
- Arequipa, 1 large suitcase
- Mendoza, 4 books + 1 pair of sweatpants,
- Arizona, one book somewhere
- Texas, small buried treasure
I’ve moved pretty often since turning eighteen. I’m on the higher end for Americans, blowing most Europeans out of the water (Italians especially). I’ve grown to love the paradigm shift waiting for me: some new idea, some new group of people, the chance to be a better person. Plus, everything I need to get started somewhere new fits in a weekend bag. It’s easy. Now.
A place is a balance of character and coordinates. Separating these two is like trying to splitting high school lovers on a couch. Big brands pay billions to walk the tightrope with marketing scheme after scheme, but the two have a cyclical relationship. They define and re-define each other over and over again. I get it, you were made for each other. Get off my sister.
There is one things that seems to do the trick: over saturation. People who travel constantly fight the delusion of a blended world. Was that memory from Tokyo or Hong Kong? France or Algeria? Wait, where am I right now? Too many characters; same goes for people with too much of the same coordinates. Did that happen last week? Or yesterday? It’s the subconscious invasion of the conscious birthed from routine.
As with all things, there is a healthy moderation. I’ve been playing a game of pong trying to find the middle. Maybe I’ll buy a plant, toss down some roots (pun heavily intended), and change cafes.
Thanks for taking a sip,
This was a shorter one – currently, my apartment doesn’t have any wifi, so I’ve been jumping from coffee shop to coffee shop all day. Ironically, I live right beside a WeWork.