Versions of me I have already been

I am packing for Dubai. And I stopped.

Had to take a break. I was becoming slow and inefficient. And a strong tendency of not throwing things away is emerging.

Now my room is a mess of boxes with clothes and items. Clothes I have already worn and items I have already used.

My room it’s full of versions of me I have already been.

Do I really need all this stuff?

Every time I enter a new apartment I feel a liberating sense of emptiness. And novelty. As if somebody is giving me a blank sheet of paper, to draw it all over again.

Are we scared of losing parts of us we would not really miss?

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