From Publishers Weekly
When 65-year-old Homer Collyer, blind and crippled by rheumatism, was found dead in his dilapidated, junk-filled Harlem brownstone in March 1947, the discovery made all of New York's newspapers, as did the subsequent hunt for his younger brother, Langley, whose body was finally located under piles of debris. [...] The compulsive hermits came from a respected, well-to-do family and were educated at Columbia, Homer as a lawyer and Langley, who was a talented pianist, as an engineer. They became part of New York lore in August 1938, when the World-Telegram wrote about the pair and their once-fashionable house on Fifth Avenue and 128th Street, which was crammed full of pianos, other instruments, bicycles, chandeliers, clocks and thousands of newspapers
have you seen the show Hoarders? love it.
i enjoy losing stuff, if that makes sense. i think what i enjoy is the act of purging belongings
i wasn't always like this
i haven't forsaken material possessions by any means, and i'm not the tidiest person at all
but
some objects give me anxiety
like if i have three extra pencils
it bothers me
i get the feeling that those pencils need to leave my space
like right now, i have one too many tote bags
hate it.
i have three cloth reusable grocery bags hanging on my closet doorknob
one of them gots to go
