Years ago I got these cool Microman figures from Japan that held together with magnets. I haven’t had them on display in ages. I ran across them in a container of other figures and was sad to find out that the magnetic chest and hip parts have spontaneously disintegrated. Breaking down into iron filings. Not because they were moist either. Just randomly, because it is incredibly dry in this area almost all the time. That’s the nature of things though. Impermanence. Love not too well the creations of your own hands. They, like you, will come only to dust. Or, in other words perhaps, enjoy whst you have while you have it.
When I moved to Colorado I remember finding that some of my stuff had been damaged in the move & it really depressed me because I knew I’d never be able to replace it. I was never able to complete the set. There’s a war in me between the desire to complete sets of things & the knowledge that doing so is ultimately pointless. Something inside me keeps telling me if I can just get a complete set of some undefined group of things I’ll somehow feel complete myself. Logically I know that’s ridiculous. Feeling incomplete is just part of being mortal. Yet I continually indulge the idea because the hunt makes me feel good. It distracts me from the reality that nothing lasts & all we have is the moment we’re in right now.