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Something dusty, faded, and old. Something dismissed and thought to be outdated. Overlooked in a world of new and exciting, but this something has a story to tell. Look hard into its past to find its value.
An old house upon the hill Sitting quietly, sitting still Dusty everywhere with dirty windows cracked Broken down shelves and old books stacked Moth-eaten rugs and rotted boards
The streets are collecting dust and so are my friends, and I just don't see the silver lining anymore on these wretched, sunless days. All I see are silver hairs, and people too rigid to change.
Necklines foam with yellowed fabric, acrid antiquations growing lace patinas. Shelves slant and overflow, racks packed tight with fringe and French perfume—expired, broken beading on a flapper’s midnight wear,