Silver Cup by Jean Baptiste Simeon Chardin - Old World Tumbled Marble Mural 16" x 24" Kitchen Backsplash

This beautiful old world still life mural will surely create a stunning focal point in any room of your home! Our tumbled marble tiles have chiseled edges, appear distressed, and may have pits, show veins and other natural characteristics of the stones. The artwork is softer and has less detail than murals on ceramic. Colors on these stone tiles may vary slightly. If you want a mural that's more vibrant, crisp and with high detail, ceramic is a better choice. Each of our murals are individually handcrafted and made to order. In the event of breakage during shipment, replacement tiles will be promptly shipped at no cost. Any commercially available adhesive for tumbled marble tile can be used. An un-sanded grout is required. Mural will need to be sealed before and after grouting with a tumbled marble sealer. Tiles can be cleaned with any household non-abrasive cleaner and a soft cloth or sponge.

i'll tell you, i was a little nervous. i mean, maybe more than a little. it's so strange, after all these years, to feel like you're back in school, in a way. in college she used to straighten her hair and had badly done red streaks in it. i didn't know they were bad at the time, but it certainly made her stand out: mousy, nerdy girls do not have streaks in their hair. i'd see her around campus and i immediately noticed there was something about her i really liked. i was never the type of guy to ask a girl her name right off the bat. i'm a bit more awkward than i'd like to admit. so, there she goes, all those years ago, walking by in a hurry through the library lobby. what i see is a flash of red and black hair and i look up and a huge backpack and books clutched to her chest. i'm not sure what it is in our brains that set us off about a woman. what is it about a particular person that makes you say, this is the type of person that i want to get to know better? sure, attraction is the obvious answer. but at the same time, what i wonder is how our brains seems to be so hardwired to like a certain type of person. she was it. is it. i'd see her about campus, always trying to get somewhere. it was a few semesters later that we wound up in class and we started talking. i don't take too much stock in serendipity, that's just lazy. she sat next to me that first day and said hi and i said hi and that was that. problem back then was i'd been seeing someone for years whom i loved. i did. still do, in fact. so, us finally meeting and becoming friends was both, great and bad. worst thing that happened from that was i made a kick ass friend. even now, saying 'kick ass' takes me back then. i couldn't help developing feelings for her. it's just how it happens to everyone at some point in their lives, i think. loving someone who can't love you back. when you're in the middle of it, it's one of the worse possible feelings. and no matter what anyone else says to you about how it's going to pass, or how it's really not as difficult as you feel it is, you and your little misery grow older. funny thing is it does pass and then you sort of kick yourself because in the midst of it all, you can't imagine ever reaching this point. how i remember her back then was her hair and her brown eyes and that smile and her dark mocha skin and the way she laughs and the how she walks and those jeans. now, i'm nervous because we're in her house, in her back yard. how much time we've spent apart only to find ourselves back somewhere so familiar and yet not. a mere chance click on a computer at work and the twenty-first century's lead us back to this. i'm married now and so is she. so is everyone here. we're a little more wrinkled, bigger bellies, better clothes. better lives? a group of us who knew us all from back then, here again, together, hoping to make something new into something old? does that say anything about us? she runs around with that same step i remember from years ago. there are no more red streaks in her hair (she finally got rid of them near the end of junior year), and it's wavy instead of straight. it suits her better. does it sound bad if i suggest that getting older's defnitely agreed with her? what is it about us that despite all the time and the distance, some people always draw us in? why is it that you can't stop thinking in what ifs and could have beens and should have beens. trouble is, i like her husband and i love my wife. now that we're older, of course i wonder what would happen now if i tell her everything i never had the courage to so many years ago. it wouldn't just be me putting myself through turmoil, it would be three other people. what do i expect, her to tell me that she's waited all this time for me to finally tell her how i feel? why am i a grown man acting and feeling like a teenager over a woman? everyone's laughing and sharing stories and talking about jobs and children and even the first grandkid in the group. the sun is out and there's a breeze and great food. she finally sits for a moment. she's across from me, wearing a green blouse and jeans that seem to hug her hips. her hair is held in place by a headband. she has silver bracelets on, and her wedding ring. her nails aren't painted and she smiles and laughs the same way i remember. across from me, her husband sees me looking at his wife and all he does is smile and a sudden rush of embarrassment. he doesn't say anything to me, but he whispers something to her. she looks at me and i can't help but smile at her. someone asks me something about what i would do i were teaching his kid in my class, and i manage my way through an acceptable answer. and when i'm done, what i do is get myself a drink and she comes up to me and asks me whether or not i'm enjoying myself and i say yes and she touches my arm and says i should call her tomorrow after eleven. if i'm free. her hand lingers a bi

"Saint John of the Finger" - it doesn't have quite the same pious ring to it when you translate it into English, does it? It makes Saint Jean sound more like the patron saint of motorcycle despatch riders. Saint-Jean-du-Doigt is a village of 600 or so inhabitants in the Finistere region of Bretagne (Brittany) in northwest France. The Breton name is Sant-Yann-ar-Biz. According to legend, in 1420 a traveller carrying the top part of the finger of St. John the Baptist sat down near the church in order to admire the small village. At the exact spot where he sat down, a spring burst out of the ground and has flowed from that day onward. He gave the finger to the church and it has remained there ever since. You can see from the photograph that the eponymous finger is kept in a small cylindrical reliquary, along with other treasures including a 16th. century silver chalice and the arm of Saint Mandez. It is said that when dipped in water from the spring and applied to someone's eyes, the finger will help to improve their sight. In a way it's a pity that the finger is not a part of the body that normally engenders higher religious thoughts - still, I suppose it could have been worse .... The church itself has a high ornate steeple, although the interior is rather austere. A fountain to channel the spring water was first built in the churchyard in1520, and rebuilt in1636. Miracle or not, it's one of the rare springs in the area capable of delivering a good flow of water. The postcard itself is postally unused and is published by Levy & Neurdein Reunis (did they have a quarrel?) of 44 Rue Letellier, Paris.