While most kids in the early 90’s spent their Saturdays playing video games and listening to Green Day on their Discman, I often found myself wandering around antique stores with my mother. She was an avid antiquarian, always searching for a unique objet d’art that touched her soul or piece of furniture with an intriguing historical significance. While I was mostly in it for the ice cream that was my reward for not breaking anything (note: I‘m still conditioned to walk with my hands behind my...
