a moveable beast
October 31, 2007 by inkling
I’m a great mover. Tell me I have to live somewhere else and I can be packed and waiting for a taxi under two hours. And every time I move I leave a lot behind; I’m not too sentimental, except for a few books and records and the turntable. I’m never going to buy a desktop PC because it’s too bulky. Nor am I going to get myself any big, honest-to-goodness furniture. Like in Edith Tiempo’s Bonsai, All that I love/I fold over once/And once again. Everything is small, everything has to fit, everything is collapsible. If it isn’t, it has to go and I don’t think about it again.
And when I’ve settled in, it’s almost invariably the same arrangement. My wall looks the same, my books arranged just so, a place for everything and everything in its place. When I leave again, the room will look just the same as when I first moved in (except for the things that won’t fit or don’t fit anymore that I leave behind, packed neatly into a box).
Sometimes I wonder if this is a bad thing. Sometimes I wonder if I’m ever going to want to make room for something that doesn’t fit.
Sometimes I wish I were bigger on the inside.
