A Little Story, Just For You, About Golden Dreams It was a chilly autumn evening, many years ago now, and I was huddled in my little workshop, the scent of polishing compound mingling with the fainter aroma of freshly brewed tea. My hands were deep in thought, shaping a delicate piece of silver. Across the room, my younger sister, a whirlwind of nervous energy, was pacing, clutching a small, velvet pouch. She was off to meet her boyfriend's family for the very first time, and she wanted a little something, a tiny token, to give his mum. Something meaningful, something personal. She had mention...
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