"There was in Lily a thread of something, a flare of something; something of her own which Mrs Ramsay liked very much indeed, but no man would, she feared." (Woolf)
The way objects hold memories has never failed to fascinate me. I find comfort in the tangible, and love how objects hold so much weight—my dog’s name tag ties me back to him, a knitted pouch makes me grieve a friendship I once held dear, and at the same time, a smile breaks out as I look at all the little things in my room and know I’m loved. This website is an archive of these things, an effort to record, hold on and preserve all that matters to me.