"You're saving cocoons." That's what he'd say. "Corsets, in a way, you can never fit again. So why save them? You can't really prove you were ever young. Pictures? No, they lie. You're not the picture."
"Affidavits?"
"No, my dear, you're not the dates, or the ink, or the paper. You're not these trunks of junk and dust. You're only you, here, now— the present you."
— Hey, where did you find those?
— In the box, under my seat.
— Are they heavy?
— Yeah.
— Then they're expensive. Put them back.
I showed up in LA with $500 and a backpack and I stayed at a shelter, so nobody handed me anything. I worked for every single thing that I have.
…we live in an age when unnecessary things are our only necessities
I would stand in line for this
There's always room in life for this
When we were young souls
On the junk-yard
Now we are stunned minds
Full of junk-goods.
But I feel your heartbeat
Just like mine
I feel your heartbeat
All the time.
There are things,
I regret
That you can't forgive
You can't forget
The police went first and adhesive-taped the victim's mouth and bandaged him off into their glittering beetle cars, so when you arrived you found an empty house. You weren't hurting anyone, you were hurting only things! And since things really couldn't be hurt, since things felt nothing, and things don't scream or whimper, as this woman might begin to scream and cry out, there was nothing to tease your conscience later. You were simply cleaning up. Janitorial work, essentially.