CHRISTIAN HOPE

Today, if I gaze into my wardrobe, the oldest thing I wear is like a seasoned storyteller, whispering tales of the past.

It’s a faded, once-vibrant scarf, now softened by years of memories, like a well-loved tome whose pages are dog-eared from countless readings. Its threads are the remnants of a bygone era, woven with the fabric of history and nostalgia.

This Piece drapes around me like a gentle, aged tree before a storm-rooted, resilient, carrying the weight of time with grace.

Though the colors have dimmed, its character shines brightly, as if illuminated by the countless stories it holds; a silent witness to my journey, quietly reminding me that some treasures only grow more valuable with age.