That is the zipper of my suitcase.

And it is one of the most emotionally loaded sounds of my life.

As a touring musician, that noise means it's van call.

Your morning deadline to meet all your bandmates in the hotel parking lot.

And you are frantically packing, running mental checklists,

toothbrush, hoop earrings, water bottle, sleep mask thing.

And you are zipping your suitcase, hoping that the seams hold as you lean on it, smashing your entire life like a pinini,

trying to fit all the possessions you'll need for the next span of weeks or months into a 22-inch wheelie carry-on and a duffel bag.

Okay. And yet, living out of only a couple bags, I almost always pack something that never

gets used. A dress that doesn't make it on stage. A book, I don't end up cracking. Which begs

the question, if I don't really need all this stuff in this carry-on,

then what the heck is all the stuff at home for? The drill that I can't find the power cord

for, the Velcro curlers, the box full of power cords, none of them fitting the drill.

Living light for a while can make an apartment feel like a walk-in junk drawer of hard-to-part

with bits and pieces.

I'm Dessa. This is deeply human.

Presuming you're not a hardcore ascetic tuning in on a DIY crystal radio,

you probably have some stuff you don't really need. Maybe even more than you want.

So why are humans so driven to acquire, collect, and even hoard?

Why do you own so much?

And when does your stuff start to own you?

The Royal Charter was a ship which sank off the coast of Wales, actually, on its route to Liverpool

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