The man and his suitecase

Once, there was a man. He traveled life. He had, as many, lots of baggage. Sometimes he left a piece behind or picked up another one. He carried a lot, and it was hard for him and for everyone who watched him on his journey. He passed some lovely and many ugly places. But he kept on traveling, taking care of his luggage. On his way, he learned, that he has the right and the freedom to leave baggage behind. He saw, that he could travel lighter and even pick up new things on his way. He realized all he needed fit in one suitcase.  He only kept the most precious items. He picked a book with the most loving stories and vibrant pictures of his love, a recording with the most loving words on it, and the smell of the one he loved. He felt lighter and happy. Every time he reached a new destination he was overwhelmed by the possibilities. He enjoyed his journey. One day, his train arrives at a station and he puts his suitcase on the ground to check out what this stop has to offer. The lights of the town were flickering, the smell of the unknown adventures seductive. He was captivated by the beauty of the unknown. Suddenly he was shocked when he realized, he had left the suitcase at the station and
 as fast as his feet could carry him, he ran back. The suitcase was still there, waiting to be picked up. He and the case took another train. A short but pleasant journey together before they reached the next stop. Again, the city was calling even louder and insisting to be visited immediately.
The man has always been easy to be called and convinced. Like a child running towards a fair.
 He put the bag down and asked a great number of people about the best places to visit here. In his excitement, he once more forgot the bag at the platform. This time, he was so into the adventure, that he only remembered his suitcase the day after - when he woke up in a cold room, alone and lost and trying to get some warmth out of his suitcase. He hurried back. However, this night was cold, and it was raining like all the angels in the world had been crying. The bag, waiting to be remembered  - alone in the dark wet night. No matter the high quality of its the skin -  started to soak.
For each hour that went by, as much as the bag tried to keep the inside warm, dry, and safe, the inner paid the price.  In the early hours of the morning, the letters in the book started to blur, the vibrant pictures became a grey mass, the recording indefinable noise, the smell first rotten then gone. As the man found the bag, he thought he had learned his lesson: “I need a more enduring suitcase”.