
In the window of the post office in the village where my grandmother lived, there was a small box with a picture of a monk figurine on it. He wore a robe and had a tonsure. I would look at the box every time I passed the window. I liked his robe. I saved my money in the hope that I could have the monk. One day I went in with my coins and I purchased the monk. I remember nothing of owning it after that. It was the joy of seeking. Memory 001 of 024 (Collection 401)