Shopping lists.

List 1
– Pack of oatmeal
– Frozen blueberries
– Oat milk
– Scented candle (lavender)
– A notebook
– Lip balm

List 2
– Pack of shag
– Firelighters
– Beer (canned, cheap)
– Two microwave meals
– Plasters
– Instant soup (chicken)

Two seemingly random lists, on crackling paper left in an abandoned shopping cart, shiny from the drizzle. Perhaps in haste, perhaps in forgetfulness, perhaps… intentionally. Yet this chance discovery arouses a certain unease, a curiosity about the lives marked by these objects.

The first list breathes care and introspection. Breakfast full of fiber, blueberries rich in antioxidants. Lavender, a scent that suggests peace. A notebook – for dreams or traumas? Lip balm – the small self-care that reveals a lot. This person seeks balance, perhaps recovery. Alone? Or does this person also care for someone else?

The second list is coarser, almost desperate. Shag and beer, survival in cheap form. Firelighters and microwave meals: a fire and convenience, or is it necessity? Band-aids, a sign of vulnerability – physical or mental? The instant soup speaks not only of convenience, but of comfort.

But what happens when we look deeper? Suppose these two lists are not from two people, but from one duo. Do they live together? Are they lovers, or just roommates? Maybe one has just had a burnout and is trying to heal himself with lavender and oatmeal, while the other gets through the evenings with rolling tobacco and soup, his fingers bandaged with yesterday's plasters.

Or are they remnants of a break? The first list: the attempt to make a new beginning, to regain control. The second: abandoned habits of someone who no longer lives in that house, but whose shadow still lives in the kitchen cupboard.

What if it was a silent message? Two lives crossed, one shopping cart as witness. The messages – fragments of their inner worlds – may be more than simple products. Perhaps they are remnants of a shared existence, or perhaps evidence of how differently two people can live in the same space.

The truth remains elusive. But between the oatmeal and the shag lies an invisible thread. A thread of human connection, vulnerable and full of mystery.