my life in a box

other people take snapshots from their everyday lives and most would rely on photographs to remind themselves of momentous occasions. i stop short of that and just pick-up insignificant things like a chip of wood or a pebble and to these i assign values.

when i saw "with honors" and joe pesci revealed his collection of rocks i felt glad that in this life i'm not alone in this venture - even if the other adventurer is actually the scriptwriter, and regardless if his adventure has been real or just imagined).

(sand and sea and a colored memory)

though i pick up not only rocks often times i prefer them for they are more simple and their beauty comes from this particular sort of simplicity.

i've always collected and kept such baubles in a wooden box even when i was still young. now i've graduated from keeping broken toys and dead batteries to broken sea shells to wooden beads that knew no thread.

i've got a quite a few boxes now. most stored in the dark.

in boxes within a box.

some pieces in my collection mark certain moods and feelings, others remind me of places i've been to, where i have been in my life. others still, hold my hope and keep my dreams. they are fragments of my memory. they are pieces of my life. they are me.

like having four corners of a box my heart has four compartments. one is the one i show everybody. one, i show only to friends and family. one, i show only to myself. the last, i dare not even show to myself though very much a part of who i am.