We don’t redraw their drawing.

A drawing comes home from school.

It lives on the fridge. Then in a drawer. Then, often, nowhere.

Paper doesn’t last. The lines do — if you let them.

The Childhood Archive makes solid-metal records of the things children make once. A house with a roof that doesn’t meet. A name with a backwards letter. The first image of them, before they arrived.

We don’t tidy the proportions. We don’t turn it into a prettier version. We cast what was there.

Childhood changes quickly. Jewellery shouldn’t erase the imperfections.

Keep the things they won’t make twice.