Wednesday, September 12, 2012

I think that I shall never see / a poem as lovely as a key

I collected a lot of things when I was a little kid (bottle caps, matchbooks, plastic horses) but none with the single-minded intensity as I did keys. I don't have any origin story for this obsession; I can't explain my passion for keys. I don't think I've actively pursued keys since I was maybe 11 or 12, but I am happy that I still have this collection. My five-year-old is nuts for it—especially the concept of the skeleton key—so while we were in NJ, we started The Key Project, in which we trace every key in the collection and admire each shape. If I were a different person, I'd just keep her tracings in some adorable book or binder and sell off the keys, but I can't do that. Quelle horreur. Instead, we await some sign that my parents have figured out the cheapest possible way to ship several pounds of keys.

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