My Little Paradise Lost

It is always a question of profits and losses. Every change brings with it many new things, acquaintance and experiences and requires the sacrifice of some others to put aside, temporarily forget, safely store for better times. That's why, distracted by the novelties and the hurry of the imminent change, we soon engage with a quick revision of our material and immaterial assets, making a cruel classification, ending up in putting away the less urgent tasks and plans, the less important objects and activities of your past for the sake of the coming challenge. And you carry on with a new life, full of empty spaces to fill and white walls to decorate, until you realize the importance of those little things you had stowed away: how they actually were the connective tissue of your previous everyday life. And you begin thinking about pulling them out of the drawer again and putting them there, on the shelf, to get dust and apparently do nothing but remind you of their existence. It's still early, in this time of the year: I'd better think what to grow on my balcony, as soon as the good season comes back again. I miss the simple and useless moss.

Don't look for a focal point in these pictures. There's simply none.