A chipped china cup makes me think of Lost Things

What a great little film! Every time I go home to visit, my mother manages to fill my car with family detritus: the clothes that could be worn or salvaged for fabric, the hats my grandmother made, the handbags she carried, the furniture too imbued with memory to simply donate. And I do the same: I have toys packed away (or still in cupboards) that are very well made and too expensive to replace. And don’t get me started on all the books, especially children’s, that still fill the bookcases. They’re all little souvenirs, though, aren’t they? Maybe I’m afraid I’ll forget without some tangible evidence to hold me in place. Thanks for the post!