the strangest thing i ever saw in my life
was my life
is my life
it’s all there, and yet it’s going away
how is that possible?
when i was a small person,
beginning around the age of 7
i began to collect “junk”
i had a place in the attic where the light would shine
through one of the attic windows
I would crawl up there to contemplate and arrange my “junk” items
which were not junk to me but sacred objects
I would pay close attention to each little detail
thinking about where this item had come from
how it had come to be the way it was,
the way I liked it
I knew deep down that these objects were special
and that everyone else thought they were junk.
I was not attached to these items
but it gave me great pleasure to be with them.