Scraps of my Life

I have kept every single scrap of paper during my search. Exercise books galore! some pages only have a couple of words, maybe a name or a possible address.

Coffee cup rings and bits of crisps have stuck some pages together but I still wont throw any of it away. The kids call it my junk fetish. Every scrap of paper has a memory. The last two years of my search had me concentrating on three different families of the same name. I have cried so many times onto my scribbles, usually with frustration, but each one gave me a step forward or a scribble out. Scribble outs are just as good as a step forward! one less possibility, every bit helps. I wish the person who rubber stamped my life away could be forced to spend just half an hour in the lonely world of scraps in the hope of finding some identity.