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Sometimes it feels a bit strange thinking about the things you leave behind,- some apparently forgotten until you suddenly remember, some you may want to forget, but keep thinking about, some you are happy to get rid of and lightly walk away from.

This red scarf has been hanging all winter on a wardrobe button at the place where I work. I wonder if the owner misses it or if he just bought a new blue scarf, or maybe one with a fancy pattern? If the scarf could talk, maybe it would tell me a love story, like how it became a precious christmas present from a lover to his beloved, and when it didn't work out, she didn't like going with the scarf any longer, so she just left it behind after a yoga or pilates class? Or maybe it is just the story about things, - all the things we own without remembering that we have them, or where. Just leaving them behind somewhere.