I walked in through the doors and imagined that somehow I had stepped through a time warp. The sight and smell, like a punch in the stomach.
Walls festooned with countless bags of accessories, tables covered in cardboard boxes. Overspilling from the top of each, multi-coloured rolls of fabrics.
All the colours you could ever imagine, just like some technicolor movie.
From somewhere would come the clattering sound of sowing machines, incessant, monotous yet somehow comforting. I half expected to see my white haired grandfather in his apron, hands resting on the counter, excitedly smiling.
My eyes started to moisten.