Victoria likes collecting things.
Trims and seams and smallest bits, cut out from making fellow beakies, she keeps them all on her shell.
Camouflage, decoration or obstinance I’ll never know.
Her shell got so heavy she couldn’t go out collecting anymore.
I told her she needs a new shell, she looked at her stumpy feet and nodded.
Now, in her lighter shell, she skips to the garden and picks up flowers.