A SMALL MUSEUM OF FORGOTTEN OBJECTS (2001)
As she paced impatiently, waiting to be taken to her first performance in front of all the parents, her shiny patent leather shoes with the metal heels and toes tapped theatrically on the kitchen lino. When she caught sight of herself dressed in sequins, hair pulled back with pink ribbon, she felt compelled to kiss that gleaming image of a dancing princess. The toaster was hot and the little girl with a blister on her lip was made to dance at the back row.

After washing, his dad ironed everything and carefully stored the flattened parcels. He would say they were now like a fresh newspaper ready to be filled with the stories of the day.

She hummed quietly accompanied by her busy hands as they played over surfaces and put things away in their rightful places. Her wordless song ceased upon the recognition of another's more anarchic tune. With the push of a handle and a metallic "shush" silence descended along with a cloud of chemical dew. The only trace of discord was a tiny upturned casualty on the window sill.