Among my persistent fixations has been with anything remotely concerned with books. Add to that parchment, thick paper, coloured paper, notebooks, board pins, pencil sharpeners, pens, envelopes and beautiful stationery of all kinds and I can go into prolonged periods of hibernation with very limited need for human contact.
When I was a child I had a desk drawer at home which I kept full of bits and pieces of paper – torn shreds, magazine cutouts, newspaper snippings – of the wackiest shapes and dimensions. My mother used to regularly raid my stuff to throw out all the litter that sometimes threatened to nullify all the efforts she made to maintain a semblance of domestic neatness and propriety. I was least bothered, however. The more the clutter, the happier I used to be. And now that I am eons away from that 6 year old self of mine, I have managed to evolve a way to make clutter look classy. Oh, but that still hasn’t stopped my Ma from binning my stuff behind my back.