“The peculiar grace of a Shaker chair is due to the fact that it was made by someone capable of believing that an angel might come & sit on it." 

-Thomas Merton

When I first moved into my old, South Philadelphia house, everything that was falling down was buttressed with scrap wood, tied up with nude-colored, nylon stockings, and buttered with concrete. The supported structures were a mysterious and curious record of the architectural history of the landscape. My neighbors Quintina and Mario were alchemists who could build or fix anything with a piece of string.

Memories are delicate constructions. They are a labyrinth, a vast and intricate novel that at once documents, interrupts and obfuscates creating floating entry points. 

In the "Shaker" spirit, I imagine a tiny wasp-worker making imaginary homes for important collections of most special memories.