why i am a pack rat is due to holding on to the past. due to holding on to items that have no meaning, just a shell of what once was.
if i held a memory to each item in my life, i would have a house full of trash. absolute garbage. because pictures, things, anything tangible is nothing compared to memory. the memory of a voice so deep it vibrated my body in an ecstatic pleasure. or brown green eyes looking deep into mine, searching for a place to keep me before we parted. a place in his soul. or the touch that tingled through my spine. or the tears poured before departure.
vows. forever.
things. they have no meaning.
just a replacement what once was and is no longer there. replacing something as similar to that memory as possible.
just to fill the void.
to keep us moving.
Picture taken in Trinidad, Cuba
