Technological poison
My mum called. With a feeble voice, like trying not to bother me, she asked: "Listen, I need to ask you something. It is not super crucial but I'd like to know". Fearing the typical questions once again, "When are you marrying? Having kids? Settling down somewhere?". I said, okey, mum, "Shoot it". I was wrong. No usual questions. She wanted to know what to do with a box full of white, yellow, black cables I have in the "all meri's stuff" closet full of useless things that I have at home in Barcelona. Any expat reading me knows what I am talking about. Thaaat closet. "I am thinking about giving them away to some African immigrants that pass by the building from time to time. They peel the plastic off and sell it, apparently they get good money". She said. The image of my now useless old computer power cable, unwrapped palm pilot headphones or first external laptop CD drive being destroyed unsettled me. And then, possessed, my eye...