It is a weird feeling. Locking the door to your apartment the last time and throwing the key back into it over the letter slot. Weird because you are starting to realize that it is not your apartment anymore. Everything you own is either stored in the attic or in your 80 liter backpack. The last two days I spent packing (ok maybe not full days since they were “interrupted” by meeting for lunch and drinks with friends). So all in all maybe 10 hours of going through my stuff and deciding between taking them with me, giving or throwing them away for good or storing it in boxes. Since it kinda runs in my bloodlines to keep a lot of stuff for the sole reason it can be used once in 10 years I probably tend to throw away stuff easier than everyone else (at least in my family, hi mom ;)). No wonder that only three boxes made it to the attic and a two to my mom while I gave away 7 bags of clothing and throw away at least six.
Down came also a lot of memories since I had to take down all my pictures from the wall. Even if one of my best friends and his wife are moving into my apartment they might not get the feeling of home if they see me and my family and friends on the wall all the time (even if we are pretty good looking ;)). So I decided to take them down and it was kinda harsh. The oldest memory was probably taken 10 years ago. So the only thing that kept me going was the certainty that I will make new memories soon :).