there wasnt much left in the room but she still combed the nicnack racks carefully. it seemed as if a half stick of incense in the right orientation could of called out to be carried away.

I couldnt stand to watch. these things were once precious, or cherished. if there is a difference it may be that the precious things are of themselves, and the cherished demand maintenance. thinking back, she packed the precious things into a bag that was so full it wouldnt close; and now the things i had cherished stare blankly back at me, but i cant find the motivation to make them more than they are.

my cherished things make a mockery of me, by my lack of ability to care for them properly. i miss the delicate precious things that i constantly overlooked. how pitiful a scene, knowing not what one has until what you are left with seems insignificant.

i suppose i’ll live, with out without the things i find around me. but life is so much more about the things that people bring together to share.