I love rooting through second hand and vintage stores. Something about the orderly march of years being shaken and scattered onto the shelves. Things people thought were good ideas to make, to buy, to gift and to discard. Precious collectibles left in their packaging so long the plastic shatters and the toy is faded. A hundred abandoned hobbies: small joys given up at steep discount, laid out to light the same small spark in someone else.
I could do without clothes and trinkets I remember from my own life being referred to as “vintage,” or worse, “antique.” That’s another story though.
Today was a curated jewelry collection at a pop up shop run by a friend of a friend. I could have indulged more, but I’ve been spending too damn much lately. 😩
I think the pin will suit my nerd bag.
Back to editing the next book in Between the Stars and the Sea. Last? Next to last? Is it wrong that I don’t want it to end? Only in terms of structure, I suppose. 😅