• Like an abandoned warehouse, my Granny Gillman’s mind hid many treasures. Among the labyrinth of objects, true gems could be found. If you had patience, you could leave with knowledge of a different time. What enters the building always leaves its mark as I have left mine. The objects tell many stories; like the old fishing rod that spent many long summers witnessing a young girl’s freedom, excitement, passion and determination. There is also the old desk, that sits in a corner strong and sturdy but not oblivious of the years gone by. This space is a sanctuary of the old, with little room for much else. Some trips’ treasures come with every glance while other objects are broken beyond repair, beyond recognition. When I was a child, each trip revealed an organised dust free world, filled with treasures of the highest quality. As the years passed, little by little the beautiful gems of knowledge disappeared, covered in veils of dust, or broken beyond repair. I regret the days when I didn’t think it worth my time to shift through all these memories. After one unfortunate storm, the warehouse was destroyed, as well as all the objects inside it. I can no longer walk in its cluttered spaces and learn of times long passed. All that is left is the memories of this place, stored in a second warehouse, my own warehouse, where I will store all my own memories. So one day, I can share my knowledge with my grandchildren as my Granny shared hers with me.