The sound of packaging tape ripping. Sharp blades scraping through corrugated boxes. The faint squish of bubble wrap. Sharpies squeaking on cardboard. That is the poignant sound of moving.
The movers came right on schedule, stepping into the house with an air confidence, ready to take on the job. They have yet to discover for themselves that inside my unassuming cabinets are lots of fragile ornaments, glassware, dishes, and knick-knacks that will cost them more time. I certainly don’t want to be in their shoes right now. I am merely sitting in front of a muted television occasionally watching them, while listening to a selection of old music circa ’70s mixed with more recent renditions. Gradually, the boxes start to pile up and the space around the house become tighter.
I am heading on another trip again, this time staying much longer. Where am I going? I’m moving down to the UK. If anything, I am excited about the photographic opportunities that await me and the varied landscape and atmosphere it has to offer. I will probably see the same gloomy skies we have here in Germany, or even worse or so I’ve heard.
I think I’ve covered Germany well enough photographically and couldn’t be any happier with this place where I’ve started and harnessed my skills. And I have thousands of photographs to remind me of it.
So until the day gets darker and the house becomes emptier, I will enjoy my remaining time here and watch a new life unfold in the days to come.