Originated by MaryT, check hers for today.I collect, therefore I am.
As my memory is slowly getting blurer, things, smells, music, scenery, houses make my past vivid.
Life has been good, mostly good.
I do not expect a rainbow to last forever, but I sure do what I can to keep the golden seconds linger on.
Freud, perhaps, might have had other explanations for my collection of purses and handbags.
I stick with mine.
The taffeta pompadour was hand sewn for me by my mother in 1956. It matched a similar dress, also pointed with glass bead.
Did I feel like a princess? Nobody even
guessed that the dress was a former suit of my American aunt.The purse with gold embroideries has actually never been used. It's on display on my bedchamber dressing table.
It was not cheap either. I bought it five years ago in the V&A museum shop in London, after visiting an exhibition of objects from the art decor period.
Eleven friends went over to England to celebrate the 110 anniversary of one of the couples.
Later that summer my brother was diagnosed with cancer pancreas, my mother had to undergo a total hip replacement surgery and my dad had a brain hemorrhage, which finally killed him last summer.
I do so cherish the rainbow before the lightning struck.
Coincidentally we also visited a breathtaking exhibition of Salvador Dali at The Old County Hall on the South Bank.
It revolutionized my perception on the multitalented and brilliant artist.
The perfume bottle is designed by Dali.
Hubby Gunnar says I must start using an ordinary camera to get control over the light exposure.
Daughter Serina cannot understand that I don't put all my pics through photoshop. Maybe its time to let the old cellphone go?
