"We may store our memories in our houses, but we take them with us when we
leave. If we are lucky, they can form the backbone of a happy adult life, but our
early memories, if they are not so benign, can spring their mental coils at
unexpected moments, leaving us with unsettled feelings..." 2
Like my colleagues, I was a newbie when all of this started. No one knew anything about psychogeography; and the ones that did hear of that, had no idea it could be something material. We are out all days, collecting these things that we call lost public goods. We know that no heart, or ear, or conversation is able to survive on its own. But we are not simply collectors of lost and founds, we are psychogeographers. I, myself, am now 49 years old — almost too old to do this job. But I have had luck in my life, except once, when I lost my own heart. Someone returned it to me, quickly but careful. For 10 odd years, I did not know who he was. So I lost it again. And once more. And once more. Every time a little more obvious, nonetheless more painful. I was shattered. And in the worst of all moments, the saviour of my heart made a mistake. Instead of my heart, he gave me his. And from this moment on, I was a psychogeographer, estranged from my own soul and driven by the pain of others. Psychogeographers are only out when no one else is. One cannot see those things laying about in the modern metropolis. They choose places of silence, little corners, plinths and cracks. So what do we do with that stuff, someone has asked me recently. And the answer is: We do not actually know. We have heard of cases where a pumping heart has been successfully returned to society, serving a greater good, but those times seem to remain exceptions. It was all easier, when people were more susceptible for such things. When a broken heart still mattered and charity was held high. Nowadays, with everything physically we find, we equip museums - everything metaphysically has to wait until this one very moment, when someone says "When do we meet again?" and I can jump into the scene, throwing "I cannot wait more days to meet you again" in between the lines. The possibility of a rejection remains, but interfering in the world is always risky.