Up in an attic, secrets are told tucked away in trunks, stuffed in baskets, buried under stuff shoved in corners, dusty books with letters between the pages, and things left aside without thought by someone who never returned. I enjoy going through things in attics, not so much the dust nor the little creatures that pop up without saying hi. There is usually a discovery or two, and stories that follow are worth the mice and spiders who claim the space as their home. Have you ever had a mouse run up your leg? I had a rat fall on me; yeah, I didn’t even scream as I was way too into a box of old papers to care.
What would you do if a rat fell on you?
That is when I realized I have a serious addiction, and the Brocante Bug became a real thing.
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