I love to keep things in boxes. Cigar boxes, tea tins, cheese crates, and stationary tins are all around my room. Years worth of tiny objects, notes and pictures fill them with tangible memories I sometimes fear I will lose. All of the good memories flood around me, and even the the bad seem far more manageable, and are somehow healing, when so small. Every time I go to an antique store, I am mesmerized by the boxes. They are the possible vessels of my treasure.
Once, There Were Two Sisters
7 years ago