did some spring cleaning in my room yesterday. found my long lost pair of glasses and this wonderful wonderful Disney classics which i forgot that i ever had. gosh. talk about rapid transportation to my childhood. i think i've been holding on to a lot of things, which adds up to the clutter to my room every single year.

be it a single candle or a flower from a long-gone bouquet or letters and postcards that have grown old and musky-smelling- each holds a particular memory, a special momento at a certain part of my life, adding up to who i am today. so, it's hardly surprising that i'ld be traumatised by the suggestion made by parents to throw out my collection of childrens' stories [which has taken up about 1/3 of my bookshelves] for i've grown up with them, cultivating a love for reading which i would not have otherwise. i still read them once in a while when things get bad and when i have to remind myself that i could always teleport myself to another place, another century, another person just by flipping a page or two.