I know I am trespassing, again, into the subsequent week of a new topic, but I just can’t seem to get my groove on in terms of time management. Thankfully Beth hasn’t posted yet, so I’m using a sneaky chance to squeeze in before the new ball gets rolling.
I have recently spent two weeks in Dębno, where my parents live. Their house contains hundreds of photo albums. Our place only has three, one belonging to Michal given to him by his mum (a compilation of photos from his childhood) when Kazek was born, and two belonging to me (a compilation of my high school years and another one given to me by Edyta, a compilation of our friendship years, before I ran off back to Poland). Kazek was a bit dumbstruck to be looking at loads and loads of photographs in a printed format. Until now he assumed all photos lived in the innards of my smartphone. As we spent hours flicking through them (with me still being able to cringe at how I looked like at the age of sixteen – a felt hat and an extra large You Am I shirt, unfortunately wasn’t the go like I assumed it was), I came to the conclusion that I am happy with the digital age. Having so much bulk on your bookshelf with albums containing ALL the photographs taken in EVERY roll of film and ALL placed in an album, because that’s what one once did (well my parents did anyway), without any selective process evident, is a weight I am glad I no longer have to carry. When packing up and moving apartments for example.
And this made me remember when Tabitha moved into the silo and started cutting down on her shit. Including her CDs. I thought it then outrageous to download all your music onto your laptop and then give the hardware away to all your friends. I then thought of all the reprimand I get from Michal for still being in possession of old geography exercise books (one of my favourite subjects at school) that I keep for sake of sentimentality, every time we move (they came with me via cargo shipping when I moved across the oceans). Which brought me back to my parents’ place who, despite making a massive move back across the oceans too, had all their shit follow them. Stuff that I would have gotten rid of ages ago. Like a floppy novelty doll filled with beans that says “I love my dad” on it.
Having moved so many times in Krakow in the last six years, I am in favour of major culling. And now having two kids who add to the crap mayhem, I think less is more beautiful. When it comes to the crunch though, it’s always easier for me to pop Michal’s overstretched jumper into the Salvo’s bin (or the equivalent), then chucking out my English essays into the recycling bin.