porcelain characters

I am sure that one of my characters in the novel that will eventually happen will sit on that chair some afternoon and sip coffee in the little alleyway in the 3D frame that my dad had purchased during one of his excursions to a remote Scandinavian country in the sixties and seventies.  In those places I have a feeling he considered himself to be free, away from anyone who knew him at home; he could redefine himself away from people around him who bombarded him with excess love and affection and paralyzed him with worry. That frame was so special to us.. my mom planted it in the living room in our mountain house… I used to stare at it and imagine how happy those porcelain characters were. It depicted two old people on a protruded 3D bench in a relaxed town, surrounded by sheep and trees and houses. My imagination would go back and forth, lamenting between episodes of time and space.. I wondered why they looked so different.. … I knew my main character in my novel-to-be will eventually pass through that village and ask them that question, and have some tea with them..