packing memories. packing these little objects from the past to move again. how many people i did not remember today because there are no material evidence of them among my possessions. my possessions will fit two backpacks and camera bag. all others go to trash. time to move on. the distance from home is longer and longer. is there is place for me at that home? time for changes. is there is place in the world of expired egos, scavenge for work and recognition in the overwhelming flood of information and photography?