Chalk powder and glue, mixed and rubbed across a full stack of papers. A handful of drawings won’t suffice. Sit till the entire sap of the object has oozed out onto the papers in your lap and its so-called form has decayed, bled through the paint in your hand. One must spend a solid hour in the company of these objects — the pig-shaped bottle, the upside-down child, the monkey named George, the ghastly Mumma and her baby dolls, my beloved Kewpie — each a character from the catalogue of injuries.