The Silent Woman was the name of a quaint antique store within walking distance of my family's summer cottage in New Hampshire. The elderly proprietor didn't seem to mind the neighborhood kids' visits, even if we only bought penny candy. That was the small price of admission into her lovely world. I can still remember the scent of cranberry candles and pine sachets, as vivid as if it were yesterday. Outside the store, a converted garage next to her exquisite colonial home, was the shop's namesake, a headless mannequin wearing a Victorian mourning gown. Her secrets may be long gone, but her mystery remains.
(The photograph above was taken by me in Florence, Italy, in 1987)