She stared on the silver frames in surround of ornate dreams: ages of old, castles and country towns by the sea, hand-painted thought, printed in mass, so that ideal of the dream would never die, eternal, as dream was proven then in resurrection within her at seeing of the art.
Vision, dream, age of old—all gifted her in smile at treasure of the find; silver frames and classic scenes upon gilded, brass and pewter trinkets, relics too of old.
She did not know she needed, would want—desire—as she did; but such are the ways of special treasures, unsought—appearing—gifted into one’s life.