Only few days before moving to London. Cleaning the Parisian apartment, drinking Brouilly, Chimay, with old buddies. Preparing the future while pragmatically burning our hands with Surface Spray; can we really get ready for the next steps?
Vu Quan told me an interesting thought last Friday, as we were talking at home: we only keep few favorite clothes. If a piece is not taken in a week or 2, it means that this aims to die or to be thrown away. That’s the same thing with all the things we’ve packed: not so many of them survived, after all. Only the core ones. Not because they’re necessary- who cares if something’s really necessary as many apartments are furbished- but because they mean something.
An old UCLA T-shirt.
Some event accreditations.
A Moleskine or two.
An old black jacket.
Surprisingly enough, there are two items I never give away, whatever happens: hard drives; full of pictures; full of memories. And cameras.
We’re still these teenagers, who were listening to Incubus. The main difference is that ages ago, we were going fast nowhere, this time we know we may go somewhere.