Kanga Kutani,1867

Must stay with Japanese, can't stop thinking of it all.
This vase is one of the few and earliest memories of my childhood. It was standing on the fireplace and fell one day somehow. Did I do it, I can't recall.
It was given to my Mom as a wedding present, I think; by my fathers' parents, whom I never met.
Somehow I knew it was precious. It was broken, but my mother never could throw it away. it was standing behind the other vases during mother's life. When she died, I brought the vase back, glued it again and now it stand on the top of my new plate shelve. It is beautiful I think and it brings back my childhood home that was demolished 1950th.