Rummaging: Finding the New Value in Old Things.

so i've been rummaging. sneaking.

sorting through other peoples pasts: garage sales, vintage stores... manicured lawns, dirt roads, vacant alley ways.

lives that were never meant to belong to me... now shared by the desperate and indifferent.

here i am at my most voyeuristic... vicariously living... gaining through the loss of others.
there is something that (for as long as i can remember) has excited me about gaining insight into things that were never my business to know.

like collecting pieces to a hidden puzzle.

places like this enable a healthy outlet for what can sometimes be considered a somewhat perverse predilection.

but lately i've been thinking.... and thinking has always opened up doors that lead to more answers, which ultimately lead to more unanswered questions... and i can't help but feel melancholy at the thought of this.

it makes me wonder about all the things i don't know... all the things i'll never know...

and potentially how maybe no one ever really shares it all.

all of their belongings... all of themselves.

though the objects once belonging to someone else are now mine.... i am still just as perplexed as i was before i acquired my new found things.

i wonder... are these things less valuable if it didn't belong to me first. or second. or third?

then again, maybe it was supposed to pass hands. maybe it was meant for me. or maybe i'm meant to pass it on to someone else.

maybe i'm never really meant to own anything.

maybe moments, like relationships, experiences or objects... are like seasons. never static.... transitory. always changing.

and if that's true... for as much as we value the things around us. the notion of how things are inherently fleeting makes it all feel a bit lonely....
a bit bleak.
as if there will always be a gradual end...
or progression into something else.
maybe something better.
better than good.

maybe.

one can only hope.