The Duchamp raider

I actively try to simplify and minimise my collection of worldly possessions.

Ste, to the contrary, is an instinctive hoarder and -as if that weren't debilitating enough- takes perverse glee in promoting that distressing trait as a mark of sophistication. Imagine a squirrel in overdrive, building up its massive acorn arsenal for the coming winter. Yup.

Friends consistently ooh and aah -rather unhelpfully, in my opinion- at his sizeable personal collections of (i) loose leaf tea; (ii) books; and (iii) neckties. Keeping in mind the Lilliputian dimensions of our humble abode (ie. a tiny 2-bedroom flat), every bit of living space matters. Like the aforementioned bushy-tailed rodent, Ste too is awash with feelings of comfort and security whenever he surveys his vast accumulation. A wistful smile breaks as he contemplates further (i) blends; (ii) titles; and (iii) colours to be acquired.

There remains an important difference, though. Unlike the squirrel's carb-, protein- and fat-packed stores which will see it comfortably through till Spring, should Zurich ever be ravaged by a most brutal winter, Ste and I -the literate, tea-drinking homo sapiens sporting trendy psychadelic neck accessories- would starve.

Outlived, ironically enough, by the scampering, beady-eyed creature with an acorn-sized brain.