I was fascinated by what Heidi had in her bag; it was clearly so different from me, and it was such an astonishing collection of stuff. I wish I could have seen the bag!
Batteries! And deodorant; toothbrush but no gum; coffee but no quick snack . . . hmmm . . . socks but no shoes . . . perhaps in her car?
An “uncomplicated and timeless” bag Heidi says. For me, enough stuff for a weekend in Vegas . . . who carries 12 pens, but no computer: I puzzled. Maybe a phone could be inferred from the headset?
I am having trouble reading these visual image-signs and reconciling them with the slippery metaphors to describe them: “essential . . . essentials . . . prepared . . . prepared” and me, sneaking, like Gollum, sniffing at the pack, wondering what’s in it for me. Not a snack, clearly.
An organized person by some logic I cannot fathom, my own ‘bag’ (re)manufactured and purposed so that I had something to show . . . only its color deliberate . . . a deep, rich purple . . .
Hers, I guess, is teacher. I’m a teacher, too, but I have no color.