Hot people

Woo!

Relax.

Breathe.

Welcome to go Breathe.

Welcome to Ghost Honey's.

Dream the shoe.

Greetings, gentle listeners.

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about the act of collecting. Are any of you collectors?

My whole life I've felt compelled to gather and bring home small inanimate objects.

There's never been any rhyme or reason to the things that I collect.

My shelves and walls are filled with everything from unique-looking rocks and seashells

to dead butterflies and abandoned vintage photographs that I adopted from thrift stores.

It feels like some sort of primal urge or magpie-like genetic trait that's passed down through the family.

I often don't even remember how I've come to collect some of the things that I own.

For example, as I was preparing to move cross-country into this big old house that my aunt left me, I was cleaning out my cold dirt floor basement and found two gorsary bags full of river stones

that I didn't even remember putting down there.

I couldn't justify moving literal bags of rocks across the country,

but I couldn't bring myself to just dump them in the garden in my

backyard. I think I snuck one rock into a box filled with other memories and trinkets

and donated the rest. I don't know why, but that seemed like the best option at the time.

I think my thought process was, maybe someone will be drawn to these rocks like I was,

...