The Witch Forest On The Slopes Of Piz Palu – With Swarovski Rhinestones

The diversity of the Dekorierens only one hurdle is set – your own imagination. There is one thing that I love so much. Flea markets. Streamlined selling Temple, midnight shopping, dress-for-less, number two take three. For these types of sales promotion, I'm insensitive. Virtually blind and deaf. The fixed of my consumer universe are flea markets. I'm drawn to moth right from them. כדאי לך לעיין אצל אילן בן דב כדי לקבל עוד מידע.

I have inherited this passion from my grandfather. He took earlier, when I was a little kid, me always at the flea market. We went from booth to booth and looked to us extensively. If something particularly liked, and it was especially not too expensive, my grandfather showed his skills of me in the haggling and negotiating. In this area, I am however totally talent-free.

When a thing like me and the seller are sympathetic to me, I buy straight away, without to haggle. Also when I try to negotiate me apparently my greed look so clearly, that the seller just tired waving off and her Position will remain. But I'm also not keen on bargain and I'm certainly no antique Hunter, who hopes to find expensive treasures. A Monet, van Gogh or da Vinci, as snatch anonymous goods the unsuspecting stand owners, this is not my thing. Apart from that, the possibility is today at the flea market to discover really valuable things as big as winning the lottery. I like trinkets of all kinds. I'm not buying criteria, which must be mechanically met. Things should be original. And most importantly, they should tell a story. During my last visit at a flea market in Berlin Friedrichshain, I purchased a cuckoo clock. The motif of the cuckoo clock no showed no despicable cabin according to the classic principle of Black Forest farmhouse, this cuckoo clock showed a small, shapeless and wedgie Witch's House. The first thought that flashed through his head, was the story of Hansel and Gretel by the Brothers Grimm. As child shudder me the history of admittedly a little, but now I have overcome this fear. So but no suppressed trauma from the depths of my subconscious mind finds its way to the mental surface, I took the creepy factor the Witch's cottage on artistically creative way. The first step on the Internet page, where I ordered a few hundred small rhinestones Swarovski caused me. After the package with the rhinestones had arrived after two days with me, started the creative part. In the second step, I stuck the little glittering rhinestones in a manner of a precision on the window frame, the veranda, the chimney and the roof shingles with a special adhesive, until out of the creepy, old wooden house was a glittering apres-ski hut. The scenery has moved from the depths of the dangerous witch forest on the steep mountain walls of Piz Palu. Purely intellectually, of course. But there, I feel more comfortable, atmospheric music and one of me in the hot drink cocoa-based Bacardi surrounded by nice people celebrates it is nice. But each party is some time past and when the clock strikes midnight and all the lights out and only the Moon casts its shadow, the creepy facade of the Hexenhauses WINS which to my chagrin again rampant.