The bed will be owned by someone else who will reside here once I leave, it doesn’t belong me.
Everyone is allowed to use the pair of table and chair, so there arises no question of ownership.
The elmirah in the room had always been a part of the wall, so how can I own it.
Half of books in the rack are gifted by friends and the rest I would gift to friends, none of these are mine.
I don’t even remember which of the utensils my aunt gave me when I left her place, and which ones belong to my friends here.
The office chair keeps changing every day. I many a times tried to put a tag, but never succeeded. The chairs are intelligent enough to know that they only belong to the office.
The computer has been a real mess. Every now and then, new keyboard, new monitor, new battery, new CPU, none of these ever belonged to the poor machine, so let alone their belongingness with me.
So what is it that is holding me back?
Is it the fear of losing these belongings or the resistance to be attached to the unseen and the unknown?
