Little old voices tinkling on the forest of the past.
In our modern times and days, having an Ancestry tree is a fashionable duty. Many families are doing their very best for finding their roots in a way, perhaps, of consolidating a base in which the tree can grows and shine with splendor. It is also a nice coincidence that my last name has a meaning related with trees; so I am called "Land of Trees". It is in many ways, a happy and joyful thing the fact of having a medieval last name; and it is indeed a great emotional weight to carry everywhere you go. I can write hundred of pages about my family and overall about the geography that created the spiritual landscape of my ancestors and at end, mine as well.
A millennium ago in the Bohemia Dark Forest of today Czech Republic, one of my Great-Great-Great-Grand-Parents slowly walked away to a much more sunny and salty place in the South of an ignoto paradise that is called today as Spain. Since then, many misfortunes and several hundred of years stamped a painful mark on my own family, who was forced to be part of certain Diaspora that like if a tsunami of hate and terror just arrived to our doors making us transhumant and stateless... and there we are, in a very turkish Ottoman town of Thessaloniki; unknown the languages and also facing a challenging reality of being newcomers and ethnic minority. I don't want forget telling you, that each time my family moved from a kingdom to another, we collected our precious objects and our tiny shiny memories with us. A piece of manuscript here, some jewelry there, a rare mysterious drawing of someone also called Mister Forest. Doesn't matter how heavy is the baggage! We just wanted to keep with us our long time treasured familiar tree.
Many decades ago the person I am now left his everyday visualized world. I was tantalized by the promise of growing free as a bird, even if in fact i was much more a tiny twisted cedar branch. The rebel part of a golden bough. I carried with me to America a fragment of a very old soul, kept safely inside a tin can of Ottoman manufacture. I saw the new horizons and back me the thin line of Europe; many kingdoms to leave behind and also a dark forest in Bohemia. It is interesting how after a while i became obsessed with the idea of digging deep down in American soil and plant myself, like a desperate tree. I started to collect, to treasure, I surrounded my little female person with a million of silent objects that every midnight started to sing a very old mysterious song. After a while, tiny figurines, dark sterling coins and many others oddities talked, murmured their own wishes on my shoulder just when I was about to pass from a room to another. It was a magic surprise!.
Thanks to that old memories I decided to open this store you visit today; they talked to me with tinkling voices: Let us go! Let us be free by our own! Help us to fly!
