Living with the freegans, my gaze began to shift from open purses downward, travelling along curbs to the piles of unwanted items that accumulated every day next to the overflowing garbage bins. There were dishes, lamps, old computers, books, photographs, clothes. I seemed to have a knack for finding household items we needed for the squat: a cheese grater, a mirror, a bath mat, a laundry basket.
I was also collecting a little pile of found objects beside my bed: a pair of sandals, a ceramic cat, an old encyclopedia, a wooden comb, a painted hand fan. As the pile got bigger, I needed a bag, then a box to put everything into. Each time I added something new I’d lift the box to check its weight. I didn’t want it to get too heavy. Before leaving Toronto, I’d filled four closet-sized crates
