When we think about relocating we’re forced to inventory our lives. We evaluate each object in our possession for utility. If we love to buy books and less to read them we would doubt about our decision-making capabilities in terms of buying them. All those small items accumulated for a potential occasion that never presented itself are to be judge once again against this vague future. In the meantime dozens of boxes get full of memories, opportunities never taken, books never read, gifts never used. When we have to pay the money needed to move those things we understand the real value of our hoarding attitude. We pay for an improbabile future, for shy desires, forbidden dreams.