Empty the house. Get rid of the upheavals that overflow us. Unlink. Living in a more minimalist way. These slogans are the new recipe for happiness. Cleaning creates space and leaves a good feeling. But I don't want to live under the pressure of that hysteria, listen to the evil affection of consciousness for everything I could throw away. I want to admit a dose of chaos in my house.

Our neighbor has a job that never ends. Put the things you don't need in a box and take the box out into the street; maybe someone who goes through there will want the things he leaves aside. Follow a rule when choosing things that end up in the box: when you take the object in your hands, if you feel you still love it, you save it. Goodbye! Distribution system. As far as it counts, the hardest thing is to start. Then, the succession of judgments crumbles. If I bought less, I often wouldn't have so much to throw away.

When I walk into a minimalist house, oh, I feel admiration. Elegant vacuum and carefully chosen each accessory! The collector is at the opposite end, but also in his space I feel completely puzzled, almost seduced, when it surrounds me what Walter Benjamin calls the magic encyclopedia. Benjamin says things happen to the collector. And because she lives at a quiet pace, she follows them, she meets them. Thus, a new piece emerges before his eyes, something that differs from the original function and the reality. Close to sleep.

The collector also takes on a task that must start over and over again. Not as punishment, as Sisyphus, but because he has no choice. Through the property of objects, it must empty them from their nature of things. It must replace them with the value of mistress.

It seems that love binds us to things that are not alive. I will give here the words of another: Who can't keep an old t-shirt, how is it going to be true to people? I do not know if I agree with this view, but it has given me something to think about. As with many other issues, I also feel fragmented. I'm sure there are people who don't know how to maintain relationships, but they have their homes up to the top of the mess. Surely, our relationship with the things around us means something. Our house tells us who we are. Is our personality partly embodied with objects?

The commandment of minimalism cannot be for everyone. I recognise its attractive appearance. But a saboteous voice is opposed to me. Most of the time, we float on a threshold between what we want and what we do, in a sea of contradictions and inexplicable things.

I'll end with an anecdote that can be read in parable. Charles Dumont, though small, said in an interview that objects have a soul. The most famous song by Édith Piaf, Non, je ne regrette rien, was composed by Dumont. One day he felt proud, he took his old piano to the country house he had in Provence, and he bought an expensive Steinway. He soon realized that they didn't have much to say. He sold it for less than it was worth, and he recovered the old piano. I had a loving relationship with the piano and I wouldn't abandon it anymore.