For the longest time I've given objects a soul. When I was little, it is was my teddy bear. And as I got older, a handbag or two. To cry into, to hug when I'm cold, to use as a pillow on long journeys.
And now I'm talking to my travel bag. It's shaking, some might say from the motion of the train. Me, I'm thinking it knows it has a bottle of perfume in it, has fallen over twice (so clearly isn't feeling well today) and is concerned if it falls over again with its over stuffed innards, it's all going to smash and smoosh inside. I whisper to it to be strong, I've cajoled it from Liverpool and we're on the last leg. It won't be long until we can both rest. We've done some journeys over the years, it's carried my clothes, my secrets, my passport, my dreams.
Sent from my iPhone
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