Most people scroll past strange hobbies without a second thought. Knitting sweaters for pigeons, naming clouds, building matchstick castles—there’s something for everyone. But for Maya, a 26-year-old with a bright smile and a quiet sense of humor, her hobby tends to raise eyebrows: she collects belly button lint.

It started as a joke. One lazy Sunday, after doing laundry, Maya noticed a little tuft of lint tucked in her navel. Instead of tossing it, she saved it in a jar as a sort of odd personal time capsule. One day turned into two, two turned into a week, and soon, she had a labeled tin with “BBL – Day 14” written in Sharpie on the lid.

Four years later, her collection sits neatly on a shelf in her apartment—rows of tiny glass vials, each labeled by date and color. “It’s strangely satisfying,” she says, laughing. “I don’t smoke, I don’t drink, I don’t hoard junk. This is just… mine.” Friends are equal parts fascinated and horrified, but Maya shrugs it off. “People collect coins and bottle caps. This just happens to grow on me.”

She’s even kept a logbook, tracking what clothes produce the most lint, which belly buttons seem to “harvest best,” and how diet, stress, or fabric softener might affect the results. Maya’s not alone either—online forums and niche communities exist, filled with other lint-curious individuals who share photos, storage tips, and even trade samples (though Maya prefers to keep hers personal).

Asked if she’ll ever stop, Maya simply says, “Maybe one day. But for now, it’s part science, part self-reflection, and part absurd joy.” Then she smiles and adds, “Besides, it’s the only thing in life that truly sticks with me—literally.”