I like money like anyone else. Cash = ability to live. However, my collection has nothing to do with monetary value.
By 3rd grade, I sent nearly every buck to the bank. I lived in the library. I spent recess after recess with my head buried in a book, my tongue trying out word after word after wonderful word. When a friend would travel, my mother would have to grab me to keep me from clinging to their leg, begging to go. But, when they returned, I brightened at their strange stories and colorful currencies.
And so, I began my collection. Money from Thailand, India, Mexico, China, South Korea, Japan...
It was a fervent, euphoric addiction, my love of words and of places in the world. Silly as it sounds, I've spent nearly a decade saving and studying just to experience it all myself, instead of living through the yen and zloty I've collected.
