I am gathering these bits and pieces of my life. Things. Stuff. Possessions. All the items that surround me, that keep me comfortable, that hold memories. And I am photographing them, tagging them, writing descriptions. All to let them go. All to the highest bidder. Parts of my life. Old and new. Substantial and small. Sold and bought, all to be sold again. It's breaking my heart. This letting go. The thought of it, the process, it paralyzes me. Why is it we fight to hang on? Why is it so hard to let go of one's self? It's a jigsaw puzzle, life is. And now I am removing those pieces, one at a time. I'm starting to lose the picture. All I see are holes.