Her first post featured a chipped, stern-looking Socrates she’d found under a pile of moth-eaten wool blankets. She wrote about the way the marble felt cold even in the summer heat and the mystery of who had once displayed it with pride.
That afternoon, she launched her passion project: busty dusty blog
The name was a bit of a cheeky inside joke. "Busty" referred to the endless collection of Victorian marble busts she seemed to find in every cellar, and "Dusty" was, well, the occupational hazard. Her first post featured a chipped, stern-looking Socrates