Description
Each of us has, one day or another, carefully pocketed a seashell or a pebble stone scooped from a beach, brought back a foreign currency coin from some faraway country, tine tokens of special times, souvenirs to keep the memory alive. How many times have we, you, I, carried the words of an author with us as they resounded in our hearts in the form of a deep thought, a touching poem or a meaningful story. These delicate words moved us, and sometimes even questioned us, then were lost again in the vast sea of our overloaded memory. All these treasures, symbols of time’s escape and our fondness of things past, the fruit of our imagination and of our quest of the Absolute, sometimes find a resting place in a box. This box then gains a little magical power. Opening it is always a special event, a moment for dreams, for meditation or simply for the sheer pleasure of contemplating what will forever remain precious and fragile…
Francois Jarlov, extract from the book “The Floating Bridge of Dreams” (in French “Le Pont flottant des rêves”)
