To call it a collection would have been a mistake. Rather, it was a neglected assortment of odds and ends: unwanted objects ancient and modern piled up with little thought for place or purpose. Some were hideous to look upon, while others retained their brightness and their joy, at least where the paint had not chipped away. But all of them retained that same faint sense of wrongness, of not quite belonging. Had they been floating at sea they might have been jetsam, but here, so far from the ocean, they could at best be called curiosities.