I walked into a local thrift store with zero expectations. Just browsing. Just killing time.
And then I saw it.
A strange, submarine-shaped ceramic object—somewhere between a whistle and a potato. I picked it up, flipped it over, and there it was:
“Ant. Canella – Ferrara, Italy.”
Ceramic. Handmade. Italian.
Price? One dollar.
Sold.
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