i thought about it briefly, periodically while i sat at my desk going through the day's thinking doing communicating. it was strange, to suddenly feel a distance from this mass of objects caused by the desk at which i worked, the chair on which i sat, the shoes in which my feet rested - shoes that i had recently locally bought on sale for ony P 700.
what would it feel like to have our brown leather couch sitting on the reddish brown wooden flooring of my grandparents' house? the books that i brought home, would they all fit in my bedroom? how much of the stuff would be brought out to be used by the house?
it's interesting how the character of objects change when they are put in a different place.
when i got home after a decent walk, one of the first things i did was sit on the brown couch. it was a bit warm, especially after my walk. we once curled up on the couch to stay warm on cold nights. now i could barely lean back on it.
it was a weird sensation to be unpacking things and seeing them again after three months, and giving them new places in this house. i started to feel my mother being too 'accommodating' again and bringing out plenty of things to be used - when actually its functionality may already be addressed by other/similar objects in the household. like, we honestly don't need another set of dinner plates here, where the cupboards store about 50 years' worth of accumulated home ceramics and glass.
i only helped in unpacking things - the rice cooker (to replace one here that is actually already rusty), some pans, storage solutions, kitchenware, bits and bobs to show the grandparents - not so much seeking the boxes that i knew were mine.
it's interesting how the character of objects change when they are put in a different place.
when i got home after a decent walk, one of the first things i did was sit on the brown couch. it was a bit warm, especially after my walk. we once curled up on the couch to stay warm on cold nights. now i could barely lean back on it.
it was a weird sensation to be unpacking things and seeing them again after three months, and giving them new places in this house. i started to feel my mother being too 'accommodating' again and bringing out plenty of things to be used - when actually its functionality may already be addressed by other/similar objects in the household. like, we honestly don't need another set of dinner plates here, where the cupboards store about 50 years' worth of accumulated home ceramics and glass.
i only helped in unpacking things - the rice cooker (to replace one here that is actually already rusty), some pans, storage solutions, kitchenware, bits and bobs to show the grandparents - not so much seeking the boxes that i knew were mine.
i didn't feel ready to open them. it felt like pandora's box. like there would be more things to process on top of everything i have been processing lately, plus the necessary functionalities of my brain for work. perhaps i will just live with boxes in my room for a while.
though really, i need to just spend an entire day unpacking because i don't think i can take any more sense of compartmentalizing. the physicality of the cardboard box is already too much. all that packing tape that i had mastered applying with a dispenser onto coreners and edges. the numbers scrawled in blue or black marker, a lot of them by myself.
as much as i feel displaced, i also feel home. the arrival of all these boxes (when i stepped into the house there was even a distinct smell that was like london) has told me that. the juxtaposition shows me what has become familiar and steadfast the past three months. i am grateful for this.
No comments:
Post a Comment