I wonder if it is possible to compose my
biography solely through the objects that surround me. I wonder what kind of
portrait this might present. Meaning so often gets stripped away the moment I
am removed from the equation. It just won’t add up. Books and toys and trinkets
and photos and small items rich with personal histories and consequence,
unknown to anyone else. Must I annotate my office for the sake of posterity? It
sounds like nonsense, but then. Twitter asks, what are you watching? I haven’t
an answer.
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