The Lost Librarian_Her Burden_The Bureau of Awkward Feelings_Pierre from Paris
Catalog Guide:
The Lost Librarian
It all starts on a cold winters evening. Cars passing by reflect the moonlit sky. Freya Holly Marissa Nancy Samuels gazes up at the stars, her eyes shimmering with joy. She was about to live the life she always dreamed of. She rushed delightedly up the marble steps, through the gate and into the foyer of her meticulous rented London flat. It always brought her indecisive feelings liwww.onedoor.ccving here, with the huge windows, and the intricate designs carved into the marble work, it sort of reminded her of the house she lived in as a child. Lonely. She tiptoed through the kitchen, with its antiquated a...
Her Burden
Cheryl had invited me to her house for a sleepover. I was looking forward to going. I had purchased new pajamas for the occasion. The only problem was that I had lied to my mother. Cheryl's parents were not going to be home. She somehow just assumed that they would be, and I didn't correct her. The little voice in my head said that I was making a mistake, but I told that little voice to shut up. What could possibly go wrong? Two twelve year old girls and a teen aged brother in charge? From the time I arrived at Cheryl's house it was clear that everything was wrong. Cheryl's brother had invite...
The Bureau of Awkward Feelings
Rose pours hot water into her cup of T and smiles wanly for the benefit of anybody who may be watching…which on this occasion is nobody, then adds a tea spoon of brown sugar and a whiff of milk before walking slowly back to her desk in isle ‘Jacuzzi 66、’ All the isles are named after things which prompt associations of calm, beauty and relaxation such as 'Tropical 44 ' or 'Sunset 22' . This idea was zapped through from marketing and won them much acclaim including several awards. Rose likes the concept almost as much as she likes drinking the unusual T supplied by the Bureau. It was a silky-br...
Pierre from Paris
“You’ll never know unless you try,” Pierre said to me as I stood up stretching to moan about how we were never going to finish folding and taping together the paper elephant head. A few weeks ago, we had gone to BHV Marais on a lazy Sunday morning for some window shopping, and being a long-time victim of impulse, I’d insisted we buy a pink foldable paper elephant head (I’d waved away the store clerk who tried to warn me with a “Madamoiselle, would you consider an easier level as this is for experts?”) and work on it for the next few weekends so I could upgrade my dismal 17 square meter apartme...