Only I, Gabby Shacknai, would find myself rummaging through an old pile of papers and books and other oddities at 1 AM on a Sunday night. And sure, I’m also watching reruns of old Sex and the City episodes, which is largely what is keeping me awake, but some of what I’ve just found is slowly taking precedent over my favorite show. Carrie Bradshaw can wait for one night. It started with the massive heap of records just beside my record player. I began to sort through Led Zeppelin and Billy Joel and even Def Leppard. Naturally, I got bored. Well, that, and the brown LP-sized bag I was putting some into was getting a bit too full. So, I moved on to the indistinguishable creature in the middle of my room. This creature used to be a coffee table, but nowadays, it’s lucky if an inch of it can shine through the mass of old New Yorkers and Saks catalogues. After clearing the top layer, I began to realize that this monstrous hoard was not just of old magazines and papers but also of books and letters and journals and gift cards! I found torn-out-of-magazine articles (clearly they were good) and old stationary. As if I needed to add on to my already endless list of books to read, I found some that I’ve bought in the last few years that I never actually read. And some that I had. And some that I had started and never finished. I started flipping through a book on sociology and religion, then an old Fitzgerald novel, even some of my old (shitty) poetry. I was so intrigued by what, just a few months ago or a year, had interested me. It was the greatest feeling finding all of these treasures–like falling in love with them all over again.