“Why was I
holding on to something that would never be mine? But isn't that what people
do?”
As the door
opened, a quick crash, smash and jump backwards happened. I had forgotten that
last night, the Iron had fallen sideways, knocking over some glass jars in the
opposite side of the press (under-the-sink cupboard where everything goes). The
said jar, that this morning, passed to jar heaven, was given as a gift, holding
Italian Hot Chocolate made with real chocolate from the cake shop, where the
giver, worked. I drank the chocolate and kept the jar. Like almost everything
that comes from Italy, this too, was so damn pretty.
Now its sits
in the recycling bin, wrapped in newspaper.
Was I holding
onto the jar? ….or the person who gave the jar? Or was just
holding onto the memory. I’m not a hoarder but I have kept obscure items with
no rationality. Why keep them? There are photographs of benches, bus tickets
from decades ago, and dried flowers. It’s like a network of memories, which
keep the person.
 |
| The Self(s) |
I thought
this was an interesting take :
http://www.prospectmagazine.co.uk/magazine/is-there-such-a-thing-as-the-self
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