I have to walk through the dollroom to get to the kitchen. Several times each day I walk past my collection of dolls and feel a sort of loss of connection. I swore I would never have shelf-sitters, and what has become a dreadful concept to me is now a reality. Or is it?
Perhaps it isn’t quite gone yet. I haven’t put them away in dark boxes in the closet or put them on the market for a few shillings. I have mused on it briefly a few frightening times, and something kept telling me to just wait. Years have gone by and I am still waiting. Waiting for the dolly question to be asked or the dolly reconnection to happen. Something…anything.
This morning I wanted to start thinking about what to do. The first step is to write about it. Perhaps a daily dose of writing will bring a direction. I am hoping it will.