Prologue: A Different Point of View

I am not the oldest resident of the museum, but I have lived here longest.  There are others, such as the princess who resides in the lower chambers, who are thousands of years of age.  But I came for the quiet opening of this shelter, right about the time that that beautiful ship, Titanic, sank to the bottom of the ocean.  Luckily, I was not on board that one.  But I certainly heard enough about the tragedy, in the early days of my residence here, at the Imaginary Museum.

I was rescued from the bottom of a dark, sour wooden sarcophagus,  where I had been sequestered for two years.  I could not understand why the man had taken me.  If it was to protect me, he might have placed me in a country castle where I could have graced the walls and smiled at a loving, patrician family. But no, he piled his stinky rags atop me, and there I languished until my rescue, two years later.  It was then that the Lady Imogene removed me to this beautiful retreat, and La Imposter took my place.  I hardly miss the crowds; the attention was gratifying for a few hundred years, but lately, the threat of being slashed or sprayed with toxic substances, has outweighed the joy of the Great Museum in Paris.

 In this little retreat, I no longer dread the crowds of noisy and often rude people, packed into tight bunches, shoving one another,  in order to catch a glimpse of me. And then often they talked, right before my eyes, of how much smaller I am, than they had expected. No, I do not miss those crowds,  In my home here, I can beam with radiance, and I know that I am loved by the stewards of my shelter, and by the very select visitors who always seem to appreciate me. I am not vain; on the contrary, after hundred of years of being picked apart, analyzed, and even compared to my creator, a man, for goodness' sake, I am long past vanity.  But I love the freedom to beam, to send that smile through my lips and my eyes, with uninhibited warmth, to all of the visitors to the Imaginary Museum.

Dear Reader,
        This is a story of mystery and intrigue and requires of you an adventurous spirit. The story will unfold a little at a time; follow the chapter numbers, for a blog can seem backwards, from back to front. Or newest to oldest. And sometimes confusing.   I  hope that you are up for the game. Good reading- Marguerite