i am left empty and scared by the visions of gmas stuff, stuffed into paper bags and left on the door-step of the poor man's market. here it will all sit, surrounded by cold and soon-to-be wet bags. and even after being brought in, stored, pulled and dumped out, what's worth putting on the cluttered, dusty shelves will be done so with thoughtlessness by employees in their thrift-store vests. people within the 'store' will muddle over her collection with their empty hearted eyes. they'll pick through her pride, and take away her inspirations for pennies a piece. i am disgusted. disapointed in myself even, that i can't save her things. even though i know they aren't what is important, it was her. but i'm still disturbed, at the loss of what she enojoyed.