I have a small box which holds some objects that are important to me for various reasons. Every so often I open it and contemplate them. There are droplets of aluminum left over from the destruction of my parents' home by fire in the early 1950s, well before I was born. There are shards of volcanic obsidian, and a pair of reeds from an Indian shehnai.
And there are some other odds and ends.
Like this button:
I wasn't there. Neither were my parents; in fact, I have absolutely no idea how I came into possession of this button.
When I hold it in my hand, the emotions it triggers are far beyond my capacity for description.
OK, that's all. It's not much of a diary, I know.
Love,
WarrenS