I’m a collector; a hoarder at times. I can’t help it. But I have been preparing for my waning years, during which I will have a mind full of gleaming memories of laughter to reminisce a life that was not wasted; a life that left traces of time in smile-creases on my face; wrinkles around the eyes. I shall be an old man talking of the magical moments that flitted about the forest of my time … and the young shall listen with a smirk to this crazy old man with the wrinkles and gleaming eyes. This man that hoarded every little morsel of life; all the moments of chuckling, giggling and side-splitting laughter, and wrote fictional romantic tales to share such laughter with the ears of those who crave. Yes, I am a collector, filling my pail with magic to share. In fact, there was once a young man; a youthful wandering buck with one thing on his mind, and one day … well, that’s a story for another time….