Yesterday I handed off a number of photo books to a friend. It was good to remove objects from my life, even as I felt guilt over the money spent on them and the fact that I hadn’t so much as leafed through a number of them.

In my normal life, I shop for entertainment, as I suspect many Americans do. Instead of fancy clothes, shoes, CDs, etc. that I suspect “regular” folks shop for, I like to go after books and thrift clothing. This keeps entertainment shopping relatively harmless, though not without its costs, obviously. After attending a photo conference last year, I became somewhat obsessed with looking for photo books to purchase. Partly at John’s (the friend’s) insistence that they hold their value. It’s great fun to be on the hunt and to find one’s prize. Less entertaining is finding a spot for all these objects, storing them, caring for them, and ultimately counting them in the inventory of things I’m responsible for. As I get rid of more and more objects, I know I’ll feel a weight lifting off me. It’s fun to acquire, but it is enlightening to remove.