I have this old ceramic mug — chipped, slightly stained, nothing fancy. But I’ll never throw it away. It was in my first apartment, through rainy mornings and late-night breakdowns. Tea, coffee, instant noodles… it's seen it all.
Modern life teaches us to replace. Newer, better, faster. But what if some objects are more than just things? What if they hold a piece of us?
That mug has no value on paper. But it’s mine. It holds the weight of my growth, quiet moments, music I once cried to. And every time I hold it, I feel like I’m holding a younger version of me.
Some objects don’t belong in the trash. They belong in memory.
Do you have something small… that feels like a piece of your story?