The click, click, click sound, as they slide smooth, or coarse, or slick through the fingertips.
The glass shimmering, the beads glimmering.
The colors. Like candy. That you want to pop them in your mouth and savor them.
But instead you wrap them around your wrist, your neck, your waist.
And you become part of the story.
The story of a hundred hands that had touched them, that had worn them, for a hundred years.
The antique jewels of Africa.
Oh more please, more.