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No. 5

These little items once belonged to a woman from Paris. She was born, I think, around the early 1930’s…and she died around 2009…Going through her collection of knick-knacks photos, letters, ornaments, books, and my personal favourite, her vintage costume jewellery…mostly beaded chains and rings in semi precious stones…marvelling at how well they have stood up for they are at least 30 years old.⌚🌸. It made my day. 🌈This was the fun part of house revamping and now that I’m done and on my way…I am a few trinkets richer.πŸ‘‘πŸŽ†

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Vintage loveπŸŒΈπŸŽˆπŸ’ƒ

bty

Many treasured memories of the intrepid traveller, raconteur, philosopher, and lover…your beauty abounds… I wish you many more years of unforgettable moments. I wish this vintage car could speak….the stories she holds within her four doors. The places, the people, the partings.

I remember the story you told me of driving through somewhere in Haiti in the dead of night. You and three other people in the car, including the driver. Doing the work of justice to the causes you embraced in Haiti during the 90’s. It was a pitch black night, and your experienced driver, suddenly stopped the car without saying a word. Only to discover if he had continued driving , the road you all were on, just suddenly dropped off into a precipice. 😱😒 Your propensity for life won through. Just like that. The end of the road. No sign, nothing.  Just complete darkness. Different place and time.πŸ’œβŒšπŸŒΈ

Happy Birthday to youπŸ’ƒπŸŽˆ…And lucky us for finding each other!πŸ˜‰πŸ’œ No more dead ends.

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