Slow Motion, See Me Let Go

It is a wonder how well I work and enjoy my own company after hours. A day was well spent re-organizing my library/antiqueshop/museum. It's remarkably clean now, though in the eyes of those rarely in the room, it is the same, funky smelled, messy, child-like room. My room could probably be (at this very moment) the most incredible thing I have achieved.

A lava lamp is now my new trophy. It was someone else's lamp and apparently he grew out of it. He knew I enjoy such antiquated objects, thus it being the light of my life. (?) Funny how most of my collections used to another's posessions. The chain between me and the freaky people amazes me. Am I bound to hold the lives of others, to dwell in their past, creates memories they had failed?

Well off without strings attach. On my own two wobbly feet. Imagining the day I stop imagine.