“If I collected dust, I wouldn’t mind if I got dust on it. My collection would grow and accumulate naturally. Probably my love would blend in with it as well, since I haven’t used it in so long.”

“His shelf. Good. Noodle dust. Decaying brain collecting dust. Must insert it back in skull—what was I thinking?”

“I don’t collect awards, I collect empty trophy cases. Once my collection is large enough, I’m going to start collecting broken dreams.”

“Sure, I have nice shoes. They’re in my closet, collecting a patina of dust. My shoes were made for dancing, and that’s why they’re dusty, because my feet, unfortunately, were not made for dancing. My feet were made for making wine, and that’s why my walk is intoxicating.”

“I collect the most valuable thing in the world—free time. But unlike other priceless things, I don’t need a safe to keep it safe, because I keep all my free time in the past, where nobody can touch it—not even me. My collection grows larger every day.”

“I collect sounds. I store most of them in my ears, but some, like the sneeze, I store in my nose. If you wear a rain slicker and some rubber gloves, I’ll show you my collection sometime.”

“I collect human skin. I keep it all on the bumper of my car.”