I am a bit ashamed:
I like trash and I always have. I like it in no matter what country or what container it resides. I like things people throw away.
I like digging through it. I like stumbling upon a pile here or there on long walks through the city at dusk the evening before the pick up. I like picking apart knots and bows to eye what’s inside of plastic bags. I like taking pictures of it. I like finding unexpected treasures when I’m in the right place at the right time, and when my expectations are low.
I’ve just made it safely home from a frazzled week in Germany. They like trash too.
I’ve come to the conclusion that trash says a lot about a person, a lot about a community, a lot about a city, a country, a culture. Even birds appreciate it…