lists, photos, paris, packing

and so it happens again. i'm packing up another home for this year. my six week stay here is soon over. once again i make piles of my stuff and grimace at the volume. this will not do. why can't i be lighter than this?

and there's all those files and papers that i was meant to go through and discard, but i've barely made a dent.

and i'm a bit sad to leave another home, but happy for the experience of being here. with each new home, a few more changes, and a different me moves out and on to the next place.

in this place i cook a lot, i try to be more healthy, i ride to and from work, i drive a car, i watch Orange is the New Black, i listen to Daft Punk, i remember what it's like to live alone and choose to keep doing this.

as always, i've made endless lists on scraps of paper which litter the kitchen table and haunt me as i pass. as always, i aim for 'being organised'.

soon i'll have a postcode i've never had before, but one shared by several loved ones, which is always important in sydney. i have this here too, and back there. but this time i'll have a lease, a small apartment, and a new arrangement of my stuff (if it fits). it feels a bit like when i was 18 and moving out for the first time. no longer reliant on my 'family' to put a roof over my head.

the sun is out; another sign of promise. it's not unlike summer in paris, where my thoughts are. today (yesterday) two of my favourite people meet in paris for the first time, in my favourite apartment; my other home. in photos, their arms wrap around each other. worlds colliding, or folding, or shrinking. i can't help feeling proud. i did that.