More de-accessioning

I had an epiphany the other night.

See, I have this apartment filled with things: quirky things, vintage things, things that at one time or another spoke to me.

But they've stopped.

They've been silent for a while now.

I still hear whispers from the things I made or were made for me, but the din of everything else has been quieting down.

I didn't own much when I moved here from Arizona - in fact, I slept on the floor the first 6 months I lived in my apartment here.

I had a story, but it didn't meet my expectations, so I began creating a new one. One filled with vintage and eccentric items picked up from travels I made, wanted to make or liked to think I would have made with the right time and money.

But then something wild happened, I began to like my story - a lot.
And I'm not a scrappy 1930s gal, or a mid-century doyenne, an early 20th century gentleman scientist or a 50s boyscout.

So... what to do with these things...?