She sat on the edge of her bed, untying the knot of the blue cloth. A few pearls scattered from between her fingers onto the floor. She gathered them, fearfully and compassionately, in her palm and tenderly placed them inside the cloth roll, as if she were placing a baby in its cradle. Then she pulled out a beautiful wooden box with beautiful engravings. The lock of the box alone looked like a wonderful work of art. She held it carefully and stroked it as if she were stroking the skin of a small child. Then she opened it after her delicate features began to change and reveal a great deal of nostalgia for the past. She pulled something out from inside the box with awe and reverence.