Blast from the past.
Keepsakes.
Treasures.
Went through the junks spanning from half of my life, timely so when faced with certain desolution of everything that stands for it.
No soul searching is complete without this in my opinion when it does not count as much to begin with.
A little bit of something in the great window of memory to peep and see how different it all was. When things were simpler and at the same time complicated.
When things were great and at its worst.
When music was the mold to the shape of the personage as years go by.
When so little meant so much, then.
Clothes, cds & vcds, cassettes & VHS & floppies (remember these dinosaurs?) keychains, limited release cigarette boxes, freebies, letters; sad mostly, fellowship cards and faded movie stubs.
Souvenirs, notes & scribbles on yellowed paper, Nokia 8250, earrings, call cards, postcards, glasswares, ....
Of course there are so much more of those nonsense that I have stashed away somewhere.
Mayhap the most ancient of all would be the forgotten diaries from the recounted age of awareness of the carnal sin circa 1995.
I've lost count when exactly did I actually started keeping journals tabulating my day-to-day misadventures.
But by golly, after a brief leafing through the 1998 edition of Kevin; I skipped to Kevin 1995 and for the life of me, I just can't put a finger on what best to describe it.
Adrian Mole it is not (of course!) and certainly it isn't what I had in memory of how'd my diaries went in my wilderness years.
Point in admission, I thought my teenage years were somewhat similiar to Townsend's character (since I found myself relating to it) but yeah, guess I might've dreamt that part up myself.
These relics should be read with caution. Or not to be read at all. Off to the bin, perhaps?
Oh well, thats for Day 1, and I've a decent sized trash bag, and half a box each of recyclable paper and give-away clothes. Nice. On towards Day 2 tomorrow then.