Its quiet composure makes its voice all the more striking.
Artefacts housed in "The Museum of Broken Promises" have completed a pilgrimage that is both mournful and poignant.
This voluntary act of ‘donating’ a significant piece of one’s life can be beautifully cathartic process and may heal the dispiriting affliction attached to it. But equally an object’s effect may also be so unforgettably brutal it leaves behind an emotional bruise that is unseen and unfelt by anyone else.
Although they may not be grand, or even of great any value, the items received are sympathetically displayed for visitors to see not just an object, but the donors’ courage accompanied by the possibility of freedom, forgiveness, or acceptance, and for that alone they are utterly priceless.
The cover may be charming and its title intriguing. Yet it offers much more than that, as it's narrated in varying degrees of light and dark where the curator of the museum faces her own ghosts that privately haunt her every waking moment.
I didn’t believe I’d embrace all the hopping between differing places and periods, yet I became lost among its pages, and its quiet composure made its voice all the more striking.
This voluntary act of ‘donating’ a significant piece of one’s life can be beautifully cathartic process and may heal the dispiriting affliction attached to it. But equally an object’s effect may also be so unforgettably brutal it leaves behind an emotional bruise that is unseen and unfelt by anyone else.
Although they may not be grand, or even of great any value, the items received are sympathetically displayed for visitors to see not just an object, but the donors’ courage accompanied by the possibility of freedom, forgiveness, or acceptance, and for that alone they are utterly priceless.
The cover may be charming and its title intriguing. Yet it offers much more than that, as it's narrated in varying degrees of light and dark where the curator of the museum faces her own ghosts that privately haunt her every waking moment.
I didn’t believe I’d embrace all the hopping between differing places and periods, yet I became lost among its pages, and its quiet composure made its voice all the more striking.