I said to the dustman, ‘You’re taking my stuff.’
‘Yep,’ he said.
I said, ‘Everything in this bin matters.’
He said, ‘C’mon pal, we’re on a tight turnaround here,’
I said, ‘You’re taking my stuff.’
He called to his mates, ‘We’ve got one here.’
I said,‘That’s my past you’re taking.’
He said, ‘Uh-huh.’
I said, ‘I haven’t got any other past. I can’t go out and
buy someone else’s past and pretend it’s mine. All
the stuff in here happened to me.’
He said, ‘Am I taking it or not?’
I said, ‘Why are you asking me? This is all much
bigger than a yes/no thing. It’s about identity. And
culture.’
‘And bins,’ he said.
‘We are what we throw away,’ I said, ‘and you’re
a cog in a machine that is cutting us down to
size. The machine doesn’t want us to know who
we are. And the way it’s doing this is to cut us
off from our pasts. It’s not your fault,’ I said, ‘you
have to earn a living, but you’ve become a tool
in their hands.’
He said, ‘I’ll just do next door’s. If you change your mind
in the meantime, I’ll come back and get yours. ‘
