Beatriz and I have begun packing all of our belongings... it's an uncomfortable task. To see who you are through the things you've held onto and be forced into recalling the memories of inanimate objects. In the process of packing we're setting aside as much as possible to give away or donate.. but it's a troubling sort of endeavor when you must play triage with your memories. Books are the hardest for me.. they've always seemed to carry with them an individual spirit, an entirely unique smell that's capable of transporting you to when you first gripped their bindings... like time in a bottle.
I've been doing alright by it though I suppose... I can't justify owning multiple copies of the same books after all. I only hope I'm as successful with my other anchors.