DENSITY OF THE MOVING SELF

It was usually quite festive, moving to a new place, with friends helping and suggesting possible decorations, dinners to celebrate the continuous exploration of the world, from the perspective of a new home. The experience -though, cumbersome- was light. Not so, three or four generations later: most friends are dead, the few ones left are too old to help with boxes and dismantling and assembling furniture, cabinets; no much more of a world left to be explored, while packing and unpacking what carries so many years of history, the sum of very dense photons of the self.