I found this old oil painting, unframed and covered with dust, leaning against a wall in the back of an antique store — sandwiched between all sorts of other things.

Neglected.

On the back, a single stamp, “London” speaks to where she’s been, what she may have seen. Before.

It’s amazing what still exists, under the layers of decades, just waiting for someone to care enough, be curious enough, to discover what’s beneath the surface, to know there is more to know.

The things and the people I love most are like that.