From a Flea Market in Florence
As we advance in our years (I am on the cusp of three-quarters of a century old) and surrounded by these acquisitions of great merit and personal value, I am left with the singular question of what do I do with all this shit?
1 comment:
Well, without old guys' stuff, where would flea markets be?
Although the idea of being buried together with a random ton of my useless clutter is appealing: something for future archaeologists to ponder. "We think they had a cult centred on broken mugs and paperclips..."
Mike
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