From childhood, I have always collected things. Oddly shaped stones, fallen leaves, insects—mostly beetles and butterflies. An early archive formed without intention. That habit has carried into adulthood. I am still drawn to objects that feel found rather than made. They shape my surroundings, the places I live in, the way I see the world. There is a particular satisfaction in these small acquisitions. Not in accumulation, but in selection. A way of editing the world through