When I was a kid, my late aunt had this beautiful antique oil lamp

There was a woman in the centre, sitting on a pedastal and cleaning herself. The oil would run down the strands and make it look like rain

She owned an antique shop, and lived in a tiny apartment above it. I would be fascinated by that lamp when I visited her, listening to the cars drive by (we lived in the country, it was so foreign to me), and looking out at the boats and lights over the sea

So magical

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SW-User

I imagine it was. I've always wondered how it would be to have an antique shop, be a salesperson within? You'd have to know your history, appreciation, I think a lost art often now. I remember driving by one as a child with my parents, once I could drive myself, I did decide, 'hey I should finally stop in here and look'. I remember feeling overwhelmed in the intricacies put into detail of the works, wondering why don't some see this beauty?