There were broken dishes...

I saw this meme on a fellow bloggers blog. Grab the closest book. Go to page 123, and copy the fifth sentence. And the following three.

From Linda Hogan's The Woman Who Watches Over the World (my new favorite book):

There were broken dishes I remembered, lying on the ground alongside other discarded, burned, or otherwise broken goods. An instant iced tea jar still contained brown crystals of tea. I picked up a chip from one of the dishes and put it in my pocket along with the plant fossils from the "tankque," our name for the man-made waterhole. I carried away mementos not only for the memory and connection, but as if these things would prove my life, my tribe, my worth.

And so I ask, what do you carry to prove your life, your tribe, your worth?