Saturday, January 31, 2009


Her method, her mechanism, was to catalogue all that was left behind. A catalogue, thorough, springing up through her mind’s eye like a typewritten crisp clean note. She did the washing for this reason, and this reason only. She found, and remembered, and treasured, whatever fell from pockets, from cuffs and creases. Buttons in all sizes, from teddy's eye to moon plate; coins, foreign and familiar, bearing profiles of far-off kings; hair clips, tiny screws, bee's bonnets, spider trophies. And she had, to thank, whatever force in the world hid the most important things in the most unimportant places.

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