And in the Museum of Broken Relationships in Croatia, there are three juggling balls sewn by hand, by my hands, from material cut from my socks, you say, though I am certain it was my underwear. Either way, the juggling balls were made from what I wore underneath what everyone could see and sewn with precision the way my grandma taught me before dying of a broken heart and leaving me a collection of thimbles so I could be someone strong enough to keep things from falling apart.
