The rest of my story remains an obscure mystery-but perhaps that contributes to my captivating allure. Every time I transfer ownership, only a part of my past narrative is known by my new owner. Glue residue and a vacant void are reminders of where a woven side panel once stood. Dents and nicks fleck the swirling grain of my caramel-tinged wooden planks, echoing of the loving wear and tear of my previous keepers. This is where, on my three wooden tiers, I dutifully display and flaunt my owner's belongings, ranging from the finest objects to the mundane. I am often placed against the wall, existing at the periphery of a space. My existence in a single place is fleeting, yet purposeful. Nobody, except for my first owner, knows where I came from and who made me. I’ve traveled miles through space and time-across land and across decades. I’ve been purchased and sold, abandoned and found, broken and refurbished, stained and polished. There is not a single soul who knows my story in its entirety. ![]() ![]() Triple-Tiered Wooden Console Table with Carved and Wicker Details
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