i've often get asked why?
why do you gather and search for what once was...
why is there such a pull to the discarded...
each item i unearth holds a whisper...
a whisper of a life, of struggles, of beauty...
i can hold a piece that was once loved and cherished...
i am seeing with the eyes of old...
i am listening to a story that needs to be shared and not forgotten...
what whispers do you hear in {what once was} ?
