(no subject)

[silverfae9]

The increasing number of castoffs from the store found in my apartment (frame, glasses, tree, a spendy wicker chair...) would make me worry about the increasing Kellification of my life if I didn't have much other obvious proof in the same apartment of my fondness for castoffs. My holey brown couches, Goodwill table and chairs, even my easel once belonged to someone else. It's an affirmation of some sort, possibly just that this crap job has not so much hold on me.