Where the Heart's Tales Begin I am thinking about this wonderful old photograph, tucked away in my mum's dresser, yellowed at the edges but still radiating warmth. It shows my grandma, looking absolutely smashing, wearing a rather chunky, slightly misshapen gold ring that had belonged to her grandmother. That ring, to me, always seemed to tell a story without saying a word, a little bit of history worn right there on her hand. It wasn't about being perfectly symmetrical or ultra-polished; it was about the unique twists and turns, the way it settled onto her finger, truly a Custom gold organic ...
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