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Why you can't clutter the house
What kind of legacy does a man leave to this world as his time comes to an end? Each of us naively believes that his words, photos, personal belongings and life in general are interesting and important if not for the whole world, then at least for loved ones. Is that true?
Today's edition. "Site" I will share the story of our reader, who discovered the truth and realized that very little, almost nothing, remains from a person’s life.
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In search of rental housing, I had the opportunity to visit one capital apartment, which they tried to rent immediately after the death of the owner. It was a gloomy three-bedroom apartment with a black entrance, Ksenia begins her story. The heirs, it seems, lived far away and did not really want to move here. They did not even bother with cleaning or transporting things. The apartment looked like the hostess just went to the store for bread.
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It seemed to me that now she would come in and ask in her headmaster’s voice: “Young people, what are you doing here?” But she certainly didn't come.
I was looking at a massive color TV on the nightstand, lying next to a roll of muline, a vase with buttons. Nearby stood a sideboard with multicolored glasses, from which, it seems, wine was often drunk.
Behind the glass photo of a girl in an imported cap and coat. In the pantry, coats and winter boots are neatly folded. And everywhere calendars: here are detachable, there are flip-flops - just mania. It seems that time was being watched here.”
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“On the kitchen locker is a box of undrinked vitamins – they planned to live happily ever after. But the boxes of drugs are nowhere to be seen - no one was sick.
The owner occupied all three rooms. But she wasn't alone. A barely perceptible cat spirit hovered everywhere, and the guess was confirmed by jars of kitten shampoos. It was the cats who were in the first roles, and it seems that they were pushed all together right behind the coffin.”
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“A small library. Not artificial, which is customary to collect when books are selected by color and size, but real, living. These books were read and re-read, brought fresh. There's Chinese philosophy, and detective stories, and a couple of romance novels.
There was a lot of literature about the grandfather of the apartment owner. These were massive books, in different languages. Apparently, he was an important public figure, and he was thanked for his genius, for his communist activities and so on. If the apartment had a fireplace, then this waste paper could keep the fire. At least some benefit.
DepositPhotos: What is left of this woman? Only a metropolitan apartment, renting out which distant relatives can now stop working. Until today, I believed in my own immortality. I’ve been planning, saving, saving so much money. Now I see what happens next.”
Indeed, life is a very fickle thing. Today you breathe and enjoy life, spinning like a squirrel in a wheel, solving your important business. And tomorrow you may be gone, and then everything that was precious to you, your children, grandchildren and other people will be useless. Because they have their own...
DepositPhotos
This story once again shows that man greatly overestimates his importance to the world. Everything material that we so value and adore is ridiculous and insignificant.
We are trying to equip the house to leave it as an inheritance, we put all our energy and time into it, and they will simply not need it. We try to save money for children for a comfortable life - nothing works either. This is because life cannot be fixed once and for all. You can only live it and enjoy it every day.
Perhaps you should save not money, but good impressions, so that there is something to remember when life rolls to sunset? What remains after life A man? Nothing. Strangers just come, trample your tracks, turn your books into ashes and brew coffee in your Turk.
Today's edition. "Site" I will share the story of our reader, who discovered the truth and realized that very little, almost nothing, remains from a person’s life.
DepositPhotos
In search of rental housing, I had the opportunity to visit one capital apartment, which they tried to rent immediately after the death of the owner. It was a gloomy three-bedroom apartment with a black entrance, Ksenia begins her story. The heirs, it seems, lived far away and did not really want to move here. They did not even bother with cleaning or transporting things. The apartment looked like the hostess just went to the store for bread.
DepositPhotos
It seemed to me that now she would come in and ask in her headmaster’s voice: “Young people, what are you doing here?” But she certainly didn't come.
I was looking at a massive color TV on the nightstand, lying next to a roll of muline, a vase with buttons. Nearby stood a sideboard with multicolored glasses, from which, it seems, wine was often drunk.
Behind the glass photo of a girl in an imported cap and coat. In the pantry, coats and winter boots are neatly folded. And everywhere calendars: here are detachable, there are flip-flops - just mania. It seems that time was being watched here.”
DepositPhotos
“On the kitchen locker is a box of undrinked vitamins – they planned to live happily ever after. But the boxes of drugs are nowhere to be seen - no one was sick.
The owner occupied all three rooms. But she wasn't alone. A barely perceptible cat spirit hovered everywhere, and the guess was confirmed by jars of kitten shampoos. It was the cats who were in the first roles, and it seems that they were pushed all together right behind the coffin.”
DepositPhotos
“A small library. Not artificial, which is customary to collect when books are selected by color and size, but real, living. These books were read and re-read, brought fresh. There's Chinese philosophy, and detective stories, and a couple of romance novels.
There was a lot of literature about the grandfather of the apartment owner. These were massive books, in different languages. Apparently, he was an important public figure, and he was thanked for his genius, for his communist activities and so on. If the apartment had a fireplace, then this waste paper could keep the fire. At least some benefit.
DepositPhotos: What is left of this woman? Only a metropolitan apartment, renting out which distant relatives can now stop working. Until today, I believed in my own immortality. I’ve been planning, saving, saving so much money. Now I see what happens next.”
Indeed, life is a very fickle thing. Today you breathe and enjoy life, spinning like a squirrel in a wheel, solving your important business. And tomorrow you may be gone, and then everything that was precious to you, your children, grandchildren and other people will be useless. Because they have their own...
DepositPhotos
This story once again shows that man greatly overestimates his importance to the world. Everything material that we so value and adore is ridiculous and insignificant.
We are trying to equip the house to leave it as an inheritance, we put all our energy and time into it, and they will simply not need it. We try to save money for children for a comfortable life - nothing works either. This is because life cannot be fixed once and for all. You can only live it and enjoy it every day.
Perhaps you should save not money, but good impressions, so that there is something to remember when life rolls to sunset? What remains after life A man? Nothing. Strangers just come, trample your tracks, turn your books into ashes and brew coffee in your Turk.
