i have little animals living on my kitchen windowsill. all of them were found...mostly in the park by my house, but also on sidewalks and in gutters along street corners. i have a trio of galloping white horses, a lone wolf that i found on a rainy day drowning in a puddle, a lumbering black bear i discovered half hidden in the dirt, a hissing cat, a wobbly penguin, and quite a few others...and actually i have a soldier and an astronaut too. i watch them when i do the dishes. still and quiet, forever motionless in time and space. and somehow i am amazed by them. these tiny plastic replicas of life. so strange and real and unreal at the same time. and my imagination can't help itself, it is compelled to think of them as secret and alive, roaming the windowsill when i've gone to bed or left the house, stealthily living on accidental crumbs and drops of water that fall from the faucet. these tiny secret beings with tiny secret lives of their own... noiseless, covert and completely unknowable. how irresistible and heartbreaking to imagine them this way.