The furniture is replaceable. This lamp? It doesn't mean much to me. I own one thing - a zippo cigarette lighter, with an alfo-romeo emblem that appears to be welded on. My uncle, who died last October, carried it in this tight blue jeans. He offered it when smoking - I'd have my bic lighter in hand, and he'd hold out this ligther, as if to say "no, this is better. Try this."
The value of attachment to specifics. Try not to believe that you could be replaced. That every lover, friend, memory and pair of shoes has its place. You are not the man who fell next into her arms. You are not the first-born. Of course, you're not Ghandi either, but it's assumed you knew this already.
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