This past week, I moved my studio, again.
And as it happens with any move,
I found myself cleaning out, rummaging through
and falling into the proverbial rabbit hole of memories.
But it wasn't photos or handwritten notes that got me this move, it was a selection of keys.
I found myself cleaning out, rummaging through
and falling into the proverbial rabbit hole of memories.
But it wasn't photos or handwritten notes that got me this move, it was a selection of keys.
They stopped me in my tracks because each key represented a distinct part
of my past and in one glance, I was ttransported back.
My flat in NYC, my previous home, my parent's home in Southern California--
like a time machine on a key ring.
I decided these keys needed to stay, maybe even honored in a frame.
It was nice to visit for a brief moment and I realized,
I may want to return every now and again.
like a time machine on a key ring.
I decided these keys needed to stay, maybe even honored in a frame.
It was nice to visit for a brief moment and I realized,
I may want to return every now and again.
It made me wonder, where else do we find unexpected time capsules?
I'd love to hear your stories.
I'd love to hear your stories.
Oh, I love this! I never thought of keys that way. I got really hung up on an old tea to we from my grandmother's summer home. That one towel held her voice; the scents of the kitchen, the small little beach town. My entire experience there in one little towel. Ahh, memories-take them whenever you get them! Thanks for such a sweet post.
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