Stuffed With Stuff

I spent some time in a four story antique mall today. The place was stuffed with stuff. Stuff to hang on the wall, to place on the shelf, to roll on the floor, to put stuff on, to put on the floor and put stuff in, to put against the wall and display stuff in, and to wear on any and every part of the body. The stuff was mostly old, fifty to one-hundred years. It had been manufactured, handmade, painted, sewn, forged, molded, and pieced together long ago. It had been packaged and shipped and carried and displayed long ago. It had been bought and used and forgotten by people who are now long gone. Dead. Rotting. But the stuff is still in motion. It is displayed and sold and carried to a new place where it is used and displayed.


One day it will be passed on to someone who doesn’t want it. It will be packaged and sold and displayed again. And fifty years from now, when I’m long gone, someone will spend some time in a four story antique mall. The place will be stuffed with stuff. And fifty years from then, someone will spend some time in a four story antique mall. The place will be stuffed with stuff. Lots of stuff.


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