All the things we cherish so much are in the end nothing but stuff. The wristwatch I had gotten from my grandfather, who got it as a parting gift from the Yugoslavian airforce after serving almost 40 years, is nothing else than one of thousands that the military gave out to all its veterans. It was only one of tens of thousands that got made in Switzerland, but why do all these numbers make absolutely no difference to the value only my watch has for me?

Even if they made millions of the same object, like a pair of shoes, the one pair I use everyday to run is my pair and mine alone. Not because I bought them, not because only I own them, but because I have created a narrative about them, that makes them mine. The more powerful the stories we create are, the stronger the bond. The same goes for my grandfather’s watch, he produced a narrative that is as long as the time I have known him, which is about the length of my whole life; nothing really beats that kind of a story and you can be sure it reflects in the importance that watch has for me.

We all should create such narratives with our art, be it with the passion for mechanic precision like the watchmakers in Switzerland, or with the emotional sincerity of a child making doodles with his crayons. Because without stories, all we surround ourselves with and all we create is nothing more than mere stuff. And while the few sincere nihilists might applaud void fillers, I am certain most of us will always cherish meaning over matter.