As I pore over the options in the souvenir shop, searching for that perfect trinket, I start to get anxiety. A shot-glass with the logo of the current tourist trap I’m visiting, to gather dust in the liquor cabinet? A coffee mug with a silly phrase, for which I have no room in my cupboard? A T-shirt which I’ll never wear? I begin to wonder why I put myself through this. I enjoy little things that bring back the memories of my past experiences, reminding me of the things I’ve seen and accomplished; but I grow weary of all the small items which mostly take up space, unused and disregarded. I wish there was a better way.