I make these necklaces at my kitchen table late at night, a baby monitor's white noise keeping me company. They start as polymer clay. After hardening, I add human hair, children's beads, glow-in-the-dark stars, and some carry clay eyes, a nod to Lover's Eyes, the 1785 British miniatures of a single eye given as a token of devotion or remembrance. I wear each piece around the house after dark and photograph it, then place it on a pedestal of dirt, paper pulp, and drywall compound, near ceramics, mirrored clay pieces, lenticular prints. I imagine the necklaces as building blocks of the cosmos, delivered by asteroid, waiting to be found. The stars in them store light and give it back in the dark.