The strangest thing happened to me. I was not even thinking on anything related to my projects when the image appeared in my head. Honestly, I believe the two objects were made to be together.
My old high school typewriter and my grandpa's letter together. I cried when I did this. When I left Uruguay I couldn't leave behind my typewriter. Years later, my dad and I had the longest walk home carrying in our hands his dad's , my grandpa's, suicidal letter. We didn't say much but we knew we both were in pain. Mine was because I blame grandpa for my lack of memories of him, my dad's came from reliving that awful day. I couldn't leave behind that letter like I couldn't leave behind my typewriter. It was filled with pain but I wanted to take it home to the US because it was the only physical connection to grandpa.
