This morning, I woke up without any idea how I was going to get my things to Vancouver. There was no way I could pack all my precious belongings into two – even three – bags. This is still what my subconscious believes, that possession is nine-tenths of my life.

In passing moments, my mind has been out walking. It comes across things that I’ve long-since forgotten and other things that I’d be best off to forget. My mind gets tired of walking and it lingers in these memories with no positive outcome other than to remember what I want to forget. I maintain in my best a pleasant demeanor, and this is who I am, but there’s another bit – one-tenth kept deep down inside – that could huff and puff and blow down a house of bricks.