Things.

Today I opened an old book and a bookmark fell out. Old think, just an old train ticket, but it made me think. In the distant year of our Lord 1998, I bought a bookmark in Lisbon. A narrow rectangle made of papyrus, it had the Latin alphabet, and the Egyptian hieroglyphic correspondent. I kept that bookmark for 10 years, and it followed me for dozens, if not hundreds of books. Many times I thought I'd lost it, a few times I made trips on purpose to retrieve it from somewhere.

And then, on my last house move, it vanished. I have no idea where it went. I still don't, to this day. At the time, I was going through a lot, and a simple bit of papyrus wasn't high on my list. With the possibly exception of my flip-flops, and a pair of Bermuda shorts, they were my oldest, continuously used possession, but, at the end of the day, it was only a thing.

Things are things. They mean a lot, they are sometimes irreplaceable, but they are, at the end of the day, things. People matter. Family, friends, loves. They are the important things in one's life.

I'm honoured to love and be loved by a number of people, the meerkat most of them. I miss my bookmark, but I don't really mind, at the end of the day.

Wherever it is, I wish it all the best. And if someone found it, and is using it as a bookmark, I could hope for no better.