It's home to me.

There may not be snow left for very much longer. I am not complaining, but there's something I need to show you. I pass by every day and in winter with the contrasting snow, it's perfect.



Yes, I know. It's just a fence. But, it's the perfect fence. It's not sharp, but almost appears like it could be. It's not tall, but too tall to make jumping it easy. It's rusty and very old. It tells me that I'm almost home.

I realized yesterday that I like clutter. I create it.



My aunt had a house full of things. They were worth a lot to her. They held memories and I am the same way. My things hold my memories.



And even when the things are not technically mine, I adopt them. They are living in my space. Their energy is important, though of course not essential to life.



When we lived on the hill, we never took these things out of boxes. We lived more hollow and spiritually void. I get recharged by these memories, picture, artworks and love. I am reminded that my connections go far and deep.



So, yes, my style is clutter. It's eclectic (or insane). And every now and again I go through these thing and give them away, throw them away and clean house. These things don't own me. The don't define me. They are not the shape of my soul, just color it a bit more.



These things are my past and future. These things are my instinct's vision. They are my surroundings.