A Man: One man’s junk is another man’s treasure. What you don’t want someone else will. Lids to long lost pans and casseroles are much sought after treasures. My table is filled with them. People come to touch my junk. They are always lookin’ for a lid to something. I own this junk…it’s mine and no one elses…so I’m willin’ to sell a small part of my collection, so what? My tooth is hurtin’ today so I am not as happy as I usually am. What? Yeah this is my cart…some lady gave it to me. She couldn’t garden any more. But the junk and the cart are mine and I be livin‘ owin‘ no body nohow. Yes sirree!
The Woman: I know my apartment is filled with remnants of other people’s lives. I try to fill every corner so nothing can creep in and live there. A friend will offer to help me clean and she calls real often.I don’t like her to come. She cleans out my corners and that worries me. It is my junk and I didn’t owe a soul. I don’t need company…the voices keep me occupied and the more things I bring in the safer I feel.
Me: It has occurred to me that I should not spit the word “junk” from my lips but understand that we all live how we have to live. Others have not had my opportunities or were not born into my culture. What I see is not what they see. I am even beginning to find the treasure in the junk pile and have been known to bring my own little pieces of other people’s lives home. It is all a matter of degrees.
Just a thought.
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