The Emporium of Broken Dreams

Hidden in a corner of the busy market street was a little store where nobody ever went in. It's entrance was hidden by a moth-eaten curtain that smelled of decay. Nobody knew who the owner was, nobody had ever seen him. As a matter of fact, there were so many other interesting shopsin that street that nobody ever bothered about this odd little thing- shops selling the richest carpets from Persia, lovely bright trinkets that shone like sunlight on the ripples of a fast-rushing river, mirrors that were framed by the most intricate craftsmanship, rich garments in every possible hue under the sun, and then some more, aromatic spices and wine. It was the most famous market street in the world, and merchants from every country brought their wares there. The street was never quiet. Proprieters vied with each other as they hawked their wares to the customers, balladeers strummed their harps in the hope of a meal, beggars wailed their sorry tales to the passers-by, and amidst all this, the corner shop remained dark and silent as ever. No one knew that it was the strangest store of all.

Inside, the walls were papered with unwritten letters, the floor carpeted with threads of washed away ink. From the ceiling trailed twinkly lights cast away from past Christmases, and the perfume of dregs gone sour hung about in the air.
Along the walls were jars, old, dusty jam jars with thick viscous dreams swirling inside. You could tell how old they were by their colours. The recently broken ones were a thick, opaque white, with flashes of translucent beauty still evident while the ancient ones were yellowed with decay and abandonment However, even these old discoloured dreams were not entirely devoid of light. If one picked one of those jars and observed them closely, they would discern little loose ends and jagged fragments that still had some vestiges of colours left.
And here, in this dingy room worked the Angel of Love, brushing up all the ruins, sprucing up all the abandoned hopes, waiting for someone to enter her little room. All her wares were free.


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