It is called estekane. She always have admired its delicacy and fragility. It was always tucked away in the salon, amid the object d’art that Rosa collected throughout the years.
She does not recall how this object how this object got this name. Was it from a land beyond the sea, a land of hanging gardens, towers, winged lions, fertility and love. A land so distant that she never saw it except in her wildest imagination.
She imagined that land late at night, in her wine – colored chamber, alone, cold, reaching for some sort of inner warmth to keep her bones from freezing. What was that land like? if it existed. Was it paradise on this planet? would ships, planes or cars reach it, or was it just an imagination.
She longed to be part of that land, that civilisation, that race of so-called humans. She wanted to live the thrill, the dangers, the actions of humans.
Rosa loved the estekane, the curviness of it, the womanhood infused in its glass by a skilled glassblower, and the delicate fingers of a skilled artisan. Was it ever part of a set -she thought-, or just a special piece made for an official, a leader or even a king.
She remembered that rainy Saturday 35 years ago, walking down Palmetto Road, and checking their weekly market. She thought most items were ‘rubbish’ and ‘common’: found in any household on this planet. The Royal Doultons, The Royal Alberts, and Wedgewood, all as common as common can be. Rosa in her peach dress and black hat was looking for something special, unique and out of the ordinary.
A blind man with a box in front of him and a cardboard that said “ It is a beautiful day and I wish I can see it”.
To be continued