A vintage toy shop sits dusty and forgotten. Dim light rests on assorted dolls as they stand still and untouched… unloved. Similar in construction yet unique in features, each doll wears intricately made clothing. Matching bracelets of twine hold the price tags. Every doll is priced the same.
The hearts of these wooden women are alive. They feel and desire. And they wait.
Until one rebellious doll attaches a brightly colored “DISCOUNT” tag to her bracelet. Her stiff limbs assist as she climbs from the top shelf. The remaining figures look on in shock while she positions herself in the front window. The hours past and traffic beyond the window begins to slow. Surprisingly, the bell above the door rings. A young boy steps in and double checks the price tag. He shrugs, tosses the doll carelessly onto the counter and buys the doll. The old time cash register, once sitting quietly, now seems to proudly announce the transaction.
Alone once again—the dolls look to one another… and begin to write their own price tags. Some boast of one night rental. A single coin will lend them out for the evening. Other dolls have placed themselves on lower shelves. They are now easier to reach as well as easier to afford.
Their desire to be loved has overcome the original desire they were created with—the desire to be sought after and committed to.
Boys come in to the store now. They glance around casually. Grab what they can. And leave. Others return the rented dolls. Once adorned in the finest of clothing, they are returned with missing bonnets and gloves. Some are broken and badly in need of repair.
One doll watches on. Her intelligent eyes take in what is happening to her sisters. Comparing herself to the used/rented dolls—she looks good. Even pretty. But she knows… she remembers. What she once looked like. Ashamed, she regrets comparing herself. They are all worth the same. Yet they are selling themselves for varying amounts. She looks down at her own discounted price tag and the stains she has gotten from being picked up and looked at.
Finally—she begins to be the one who rebels. Only instead of rebelling against the price they are truly worth, she decides to rebel against lowering price tags.
The room stills as the dolls all look toward the “DISCOUNT” tag as it floats to the floor. This brave one now wears only her original price tag. She begins to climb back to the top shelf. It is a much harder journey than the trip to the lower shelves. Slowly and painfully she retakes her place.
Months pass. A year. Eventually… a man walks in. Much taller than the boys. He can reach her top shelf. He has saved his money until he can afford her.
And her waiting is over.
'In that book which is
My memory...
On the first page
That is the chapter when
I first met you
Appear the words...
Here begins a new life.'
-- La Vita Nuova by Dante Alighieri
