Call it patina (it is a pretty word) or call it beausage, but either way you’ve got to love the concept: an object that becomes more beautiful with use.
We bought our car eleven years ago. This summer the battery in the key died, so I fished out the other key, which has never been used. And ever since, I’ve been missing the comforting texture — smooth and supple — of the old one that served not only as the key to the car, but also as my fidget tool or Kombolói-like Anti-Anxiety Device.
