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Past life

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When I moved to the US 13 years ago, it was with 1 suitcase full of clothing and few odds and ends. These are the things my 16 year old self deemed indispensable.

From top right to left:

  • my journal, full of teenage angst (“Holy shit, I have no money for cigarettes + have no weed for the rest of the week + I hope Alex saw me on the bus today. He’s so dreamy!” type stuff)
  • a stack of old photos (the top one my mémé and me holding my baby cousin)
  • a stack of old letters and postcards from friends (from as far back as elementary school)
  • school binder full of pictures of random stuff (notes, magazine cut outs…)
  • on top of said binder is my school parent-teacher book, and my last report cards (just to remind myself how great a student I once was: expulsion notices + absence & tardy tickets + maintained a solid C-D average)
  • Les Petits Enfants du Siècle, my favourite book of all times. I have read this too many times to count.
  • a photo of my parents from a few years before I became a thing. My ma was 15 and pa was 19? 20? (we don’t know his exact birth year, but suspect he’s actually a few years older than he claims)
  • health book thing that was issued on my birth day + that I had to bring to the doctor every time I sneezed the wrong way. It has a record of all the times I got bronchitis, which was pretty much every year. I’m not exactly sure why I held on to this, but I’m glad I did.
  • Obélix + Cétautomatix figures. My love for the Astérix comics knows no bound. I read them in Latin once, but never in English.
  • the letter my best friend at the time wrote me and gave me the night before I boarded the plane to Los Angeles. It’s honestly the only letter I would weep for if it were lost.
  • finally, my one way plane ticket: Lyon > Amsterdam > Los Angeles