I would love to say ‘my children’, but first and foremost, that simply isn’t true, and secondly, I don’t actually have children. So I’m forced to say something else.
I could go for what I call a ‘hippy answer’, and say something like love, charity, soul, fate, destiny, faith, ideals, peace, uncleanliness, drug plants, a ridiculous collection of noises vaguely masking as music, maize, unrehabilitation, the latest mass-produced psychedelic range, welfare benefits, vegetables, and so on. But all that is complete codswallop. It gets to the nub of the matter in that there are very few things no human would sell for any amount of money.
But I’m not all humans. If I thought that I was all humans for just one second, I’d be fearful that someone had spiked my water with hippy-dippy-trippy juice.
I think from all my personal possessions, I’m unusual in that there is very little that I would sell. They’re my possessions. I wouldn’t even sell them for charity; I’d just give the money to the charity instead. I see my possessions as my record of my time on Earth.
And that, for me, is some priceless granola.
The Friday Bonus Question:
Plucked from the basement of the internet, a bewildering real question that defies logic and an answer, here for you to ponder:
My wife just changed her Facebook status from ‘married’ to ‘widowed’. Should I be scared?
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