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I find it disturbing and a bit sad that in every relationship I have, I feel like I must take only what is of utmost importance. This is a historical artifact, for sure. When Marcie first destroyed all of my possessions still in her presence, something broke inside of me. Of course, she may have had just cause for this, but, again, this is something in my mind, a paranoia which springs from deep within the fertile peat of childhood when I was taught that I was to blame for everything.
So, when I leave Praha, I look at my possessions and the first thing that crosses my mind is whether I'll ever see them again. It is a disease vomited up from my past.
And I am, too, at fault. I have always been a nomad. Christian would laugh if he read these words: *It is in my blood*. What an awful cliche. Whatever I leave behind is gone. I believe that is the point.
And if some of it turns up later, it is a happy surprise. To view life in this fashion, I have already carved out a hollow in an asteroid floating randomly through uncharted space.
@flavigula@sonomu.club
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