A room sits empty except for Bob Marley, painted on a flag. Only darkness surrounds half-used candles, random stuffed animals, and a fuzzy blanket of the yellow submarine. A friend should intervene. A space trapped in time like a hippy in amber needs professional help to attract new occupants. No room left behind.
I decide to step in. I can't literally step, since I am also A Space. I am a room full of perfectly good stuff that people know they can sell. The items that they bring to me they no longer use. This is their way of getting treasures to someone who can use them. I am a letting-go place.
Other people come to me to gather from me what they need or want without having it new. They also choose me over a Mart because I contain Unusual Items and things that no one knows what they are for. A few come because I hold some promise of a smaller carbon footprint. Those people confuse me the most as they rarely buy shoes.
Whatever the motivation, people pass through my space in patterns of setting down and picking up things. If you were to watch people in building-time, you'd see a traffic pattern of moving stuff from here to there, over and over. And now, I'm joining in by moving some of the things from inside of me to inside of that abandoned High School student's room which now sits empty.
Down a small road perched above an island bay, my pillow covers, blankets, lamps, and tchockes are making their way to their new abode. I can't wait to see the pictures. I feel like that empty nest just gave me some offspring.
