Here it's old things that are in the windows gathering grime until it becomes unacceptable to do so and everything became new and slick. Our memories gather grime. Especially if they are of things better left in corners or boxes. Things better left buried. Things easier to forget about than to clean off.

The display is a selling of survival skills in a child's voice from an adult's view.Childhood is a metaphor for this place between where learning is supposed to happen and fantasies are offered as anecdotes to terror, preserved in multitudes of detritus, cast off after moving on, up, and passed, serving as encasements whose interiority turns inside out when put back on display. It's there inside the heart remains.