I normally give them back…eventually.
But I have this collection, in my mind, of all the jumpers I’ve ever worn that weren’t mine, all the coats draped around my shoulders and all the side-effects of the question “are you cold?”
Currently I’m sat in a fluffy coat, slightly over-warm that belongs to my Grandfather.
To think of all places he’s been, stories he’s heard and things he’s said in this coat is what makes me happy. I’ll keep it for an hour or so before returning it. But if it were anyone else I might not.
When I put on the jumper of a guy I’m dating with slightly pulled sleeves or signs of wear I’m putting on a piece of them.
When they disappear, even for a little while, when I pretend I’ve accidentally packed them or forgot where I put them it tends to be because I want to hold onto whatever it is that little bit longer as I travel.
I’m not a kleptomaniac. I collect and “borrow” stories not things.
I like reserved train tickets that nobody collects. Such a shame to waste something reserved especially for you.
I like to pick up big orange leaves that other people would never see.
I like to write about people I see on trains that are mysteries. I once thought a guy was a part of something really cool because of a logo emblazoned on his brief case….the actual results were so disappointing I won’t share them with you.
I guess I just like stories, other peoples lives, things that both have and haven’t been and things that aren’t mine that can belong to me for a little while covertly.
I also like that I’m sharing this with complete strangers,