I am a collector. A collector of just about anything. Anything that can make a pile, is a multiple of two, or has no rhyme or reason whatsoever but seems to need to be together. Why do I indulge myself in this almost act of hoarding? It is an act of zen for me. There is the thrill of the hunt followed by the sense of each piece belonging in my realm. Each item NEEDS to be with its mate or its group. Somehow I can take bits of the world and have them make sense together as if their magnetic force field willed them to be reunited. If you think about it in people terms, it’s the same thing. People you have collected and moved through life with. Whose lives have touched you in a way to leave an imprint on your memory. Some get carried forward and mix and mingle with old and new friends and others get tucked away but are never forgotten.