Boxes
A few days ago I left Ecuador for a 2 weeks globetrotting attack, as I call it. I’m in Italy now and will leave again to Ecuador in about 10 days. I’m back in Pisa, the town where I graduated and where I have most of my Italian friends. The first days it felt strange, though. I would go to my room upstairs, a sort of open space that only misses a kitchen to be considered an apartment, and I would look at my stuff, the desk, the bookshelves (I have libraries everywhere)… I’m here but in reality I feel so detached. I like this house, the countryside around, it’s peaceful and quiet. And I like the room, its colors and functionality. But then I think I should probably pack more of what I see around me, not because I’m taking it with me to Quito, but rather because I won’t be using it anyway, living somewhere else. No matter how minimalist I want my world to be, there are some things I just can’t dump, they hold my memories, especially those I am too lazy to write down not to let them fade away with years. Feeling like I still haven’t found a place to call home, I can’t trash the memories of my gypsy life. Someday hopefully I’ll spend a weekend or two opening these boxes, smiling at what I see inside, remembering faces, landscapes, colors, feelings.
