We all have different tastes. I enjoyed handmade jewelry. Every Monday I would go out into a city that didn't know my name and I would find the best materials.
I would throw them in my trunk and head home, eager to create something that would be cherished by me.
In my basement was where I did my work. All the cutting, sewing, slicing, and torching, all made my jewelry come out so beautifully.
The unfortunate part was that there would always be leftovers of materials and I hated having to dispose of it.
One night, during my usual arts and crafts time, I accidentally threw out some of the materials into the garbage outside. I'm convinced that I must have been tired that day.
A few days later, a police officer turned up at my door and forced his way in. He went straight down to my basement and found my bundles of jewelry.
"What the hell is all of this Mr. Smyth?" said the officer, shining his flashlight at my handiwork.
"My arts and crafts." I said, pulling a knife from my back pocket.
"These are necklaces with human ears on them and earrings with human eyes on strings! Are you insane?"
I looked at the officer with a blank stare and gave him a simple response.
"We all have different tastes. This is mine."