We strolled around the auction house, looking
at the paintings, some amazing and others – not.

The catalogue is final resting place for certain
works, others only come alive when they sense

you’re smiling at them. An older couple that I
was not smiling at perused the pottery, old toys

and cutlery. “This is the estate sale, it will be
interesting to see what some of this goes for”

the curious woman suggested to her husband.
“A dead person’s junk”, he said in full grump.