The turning point in my approach to complex things came about 15 years ago when I realized I was unhappy. At that point, my stuff shouted at me and I was deafened by the cacophony. It was all a source of insanity.

Before then, I collected for the sake of having and couldn’t care less about unfinished projects. Let’s just say discipline wasn’t my strongest quality as I went about living, not that I understood the persistent impact of constant double- and triple-tasking.

Admittedly, the things weren’t the problem. Nowadays I better understand how much I back then sought diversion. Complications of doing too much and pseudo-interest in unnecessary cognitive taxation were justified.

Today I just carry a phone. Its nature presents me with a philosophical dilemma, but I still use it for a huge fraction of the images I take.

Life has really changed in the last ten years. And, much of the transformation I recall was ironically driven just by asking myself “why,” as in, where will this lead? and what is the point of all this shit?

Getting older is probably the root cause, but I don’t really know for sure. For now, cold fingers and often grainy photos are a good tradeoff to fostering these internal conversations. I’m good with that.