When my dad passed, I took over his antique business not out of duty, but because every cracked vase and rusted key reminded me of our travels together. We used to scour markets from Marrakesh to Kyoto, chasing stories more than objects, and somewhere along the way, I fell in love with the hunt. Now, every item I touch feels like a whispered memory of him. I believe nothing on this earth is worth nothing everything holds a past, and every past holds a soul.