• Vol. 01
  • Chapter 08
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Of course the door creaked-it was one badly painted apology for a door. Nevertheless, I was on a mission and I succeeded in opening it by pushing hard, knocking over three or four piles of ancient comic books in the process. The owner of this emporium ruled from another apology-a rattan, splintery chair. My thoughts rewound to childhood, he was surely a character from Grimms' Fairy Tales?
        The shop , though full of interest that would gladden a tinkers' eye, passed me in a dusty flash.
        'I'm interested, I mean -I would like to buy '. Damn I was nervous! Pointed my trembling finger at the peeling gilt edge. He knew.
        'Old money if you please' he muttered. This eccentric piece of information was widespread. Midas rich. He named his price. I parted with a chunk of my inheritance. No need for pleasantries. my rucksack carried the prize.
        Home at last. Gazed with an emotional reverence on so much beauty.Thoughts were racing. Artistic envy. Unsullied beauty. Citrus smell? No- this would be too imaginative. Slowly I opened Pandoras' box. Inside I was laughing hysterically NO! It's MY box.
        A sliver of peacock feather; whisper of bubbles; gleam of a pearl; a darkness of tulip; roll of marble and green of an old telephone. Colour of cascading curtains and a hint of a gin label. The old trunk with brass catch must be the starting point. Whoops! mustn't cut corners, straight edges first. One thousand pieces of my dream. I was lucky. How many people can have their dream broken and then fix everything together again?