The windows were dirty, and the large plaster statues framed with curtains made from threads of light stopped the eye and defended the interior from the casual glance. But the second look draw me to the windows and set me searching for the entrance. Closed, the place remained a mystery, a shop of lamps hung like ripe exotic fruits from the ceiling, from the shelves, all colours and shapes, lovely textiles lit from within creating a mystery garden behind that dirty glass.
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