At the end of the street, on the left corner, an antiques shop standing in the darkness and cold of winter. Words, letters and pictures hanged on the walls, thoughts falling from the ceiling, butterflies flying on shelves of books telling stories.
Everything was melting in Dune perfume. Vintage Dune.
Alone, an old man, sitting right in the centre of the shop staring to a photo between his wrinkled hands. A brunette with long dark hair and a cowboy hat, dark glasses and a black shirt. A dark picture but shining with her smile. In his loneliness, a smile reflection refreshes the depth of his heart and takes him to a world where he escapes with her to places where passion explodes and love resides.
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Memories.. particles in time
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